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"It is a useful and valuable work, replete with instruction and en- 
couragement, and will hWe, I hope, as it deserves to have, a wide 
circulation. I make much use of it iu my periodical meetings, among 
this interesting and important class." 

*'I am constrained to say that it is full of interest, and that of the 
most pleasing and useful kind. It presents to the reader a bouquet 
of charmed names — a c.ibinet of charming reminiscences — a tissue 
of facts and morals, of incidents and principles, at once delightful and 
edifying. And as a gallery of ' elect ladies ' and their sons, it would 
be a profitable study for all who fill the important rehitious of son and 

"I earnestly hope that this little volume, which is a suitable present 
to the Mothers of England, will have a wide circulation ; and that its 
perusal will be accompanied by the powerful aid of the Holy iSpiriU" 

" It has afforded pleasure to Mrs. Grey and myself. It appears to roe 
a valuable selection of specimens of the success attending the faithful 
performance of an important class of duties ; and will, I trust, prove 
instructive and encouraging to majiy mothers, showing in so many 
instances the happy effect of their prayers and exertions." 

" Would that all mothers — young mothers, especially — had such a 
volume in their possession, and could be prevailed ui)on to make it a 
vadt mecum in the training of their infant charge. I rejoice to speak 
of it wherever I can, and shall be ready and glad to avail myself of 
every opportunity of recommending it, because I can recommend it 
conscientiousJy and earnestly." 

" We have lingered over the pages of this most attractive book, with 
feelings of interest, and tenderness, and affection, which we cannot 
express. Many remembrances of youtli arose, and took full possession 
of our heart, while in some instances we scarcely knew whether we 
read the pages of the work before us or those of memory. It is well 
that instances of the precious influences of maternal piety, prudence, 
and love, should be recorded ; but who can tell their inestimable 
value ? Tlie mothers of the wise and good ! yes, were there more 
such mothers, we might confidently expect more such sons." 



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It is eyident that the first and deepest impressions are»made 
OQ the minds of children by mothers. It is nnder their mater- 
nal attention that the physical form is gently reared, the intel- 
lectual faculties elicited, and the moral powers fostered and 
directed. To discharge this three-fold office, what knotkrledge, 
skill, kindness, fidelity, and perseverance are requisite I ' 

How important that the earliest lessons and impressions 
should be those of wisdom, goodness, and piety ; and not of 
folly, ignorance, and irreligioni 

As is the mother, extensiyely and generally, so will be the 
children. The child will, and must) from the very necessity 
of things, be powerfully influenced by the maternal character 
which presides oyer it. 

It is a rare thing to meet with a dull and ignorant child who 

has had the fostering care of an intelligent mother ; so that the 

province she occupies is one of the most important and mo- 

mentous, to the interests of mind, in whidi a responsible being 

CO can possibly be placed. 

2S Now, it is of the highest import that mothers should be 
^ awakened and duly instructed as to 'this responsibility itself. 
O A deep sense of these moral obligations would lead to an eam- 
est desire to know by what means the onerous duties could 
O ^t be dischaigecL Instroction would be diligently sought, 
^ examples would be eagerly contemplated, and Divine aid would 
be fervently implored. 

The writer has been powerfully struck by the fact, that there 
are few works which are directly adapted to give the informa- 
tion, and supply the help whidi is needed. Good thoughts 
and interesting facts on this subject are scattered abroad 
through the lepgth and breadth of our moral and religious lit- 


erature ; bnt thus it is almost unayailable to that class whose 
benefit and eooouragemeot should be chieflj aimed at The 
duties of the maternal office have sometimes been exhibited in 
works of moral fiction ; but many persons conscientiously ob- 
ject to instruction being presented in that costume. A few 
female writers of decided excellence have given their attention 
to the subject ; among whom, the most honorable mention 
should be made of Mrs. Child, Mrs. Sigoumey, Mrs. Ellis, Mrs. 
Bakewell, and Miss Halstead. An American monthly periodi- 
cal, " ITie Mother's Magazine,'* edited by Mr& Whittlesey, and 
reprinted in this country, has done good service in this impor- 
tant work. And the names of Todd, Abbott, and Gk)odrich, of 
America, should ever be mentioned with grateful respect by 
all who are interested in the improvement of the maternal 
character, and the welfare of the rising generation. 

A periodical has recently been commenced, entitled ** 7%8 
Britifh Mother's Magazine,'* which is conducted with great tal- 
ent, and which, with the works already noticed, we would com- 
mend to the attention of the pious mothers of our country. 

To some of these writers apd works this volume is exten- 
sively indebted. The plan designed has been, to furnish 
within a portable and convenient-sized volume, a series of de- 
lightful instances of the success of pious maternal influence, 
interspersed with various striking incidents, both in prose and 
verse, calculated to interest and improve the mind, and fol- 
lowed by short essays on the various duties and responsibilities 
of the Christian mother. 

To collect and arrange has been the chief duty of the Author, 
being satbfied that it would have been impossible, for him, at 
least, to have provided original articles of equal value, and aa 
directly adapted to the end contemplated. 

That the book may prove instructive, edifying, and useful, 
under God's blessing, to that most numerous, important, and 
influential class for whom it has been chiefly designed, is the 
earnest and prayerful desire of the Author. 


Introdactory Chapter . 
Monica and St Ai^stine 
Mother of Alfred the Great 
Mother of John CEcoIampadim • 
Mother of Francis Lord Bacon 
Winifride, Mother of Bishop Hall . 
Mrs. Elizabeth Burnet 
Rev. O. Heywood flnfl his Mother . 
Mrs. G. Clarke's Mother 
Sbr Isaac Newton's Mother 
Rev. Thos. Haljburton and his Mother 
Br. Samuel Johnson and his Mother 
President Edwards and his Mother 
Mrs. Wesley and her Children 
Mrs. Sayage and her Children 
Colonel Gardiner and his Mother 
Dr. Doddridge and his Mother 
Dr. Coke and his Mother 
MrB.H. WooddandherSoQ . 

. 14 

. 2S 

. « 

. 88 

. 88 

. 46 

. 61 

. 66 

. 69 



Sir W. Jonas and his Mother « 76 

Ladj Glenorchy and her Mother . ... 70 

Ber. E. D. Jackson and his Mother . • • •82 

Rohert Bloomfield and his Mother • ... 86 

BeT. John Newton and his Mother 88 

Mrs. Ohase and her Children 05 

Mrs. Robinson and her Mother 00 

Oberlin and his Mother lOS 

Mn. A. Thornton's Address to her Children . .106 

Mrs. Berry and her ChUdren ..... 100 

Gkneral Washington and his Mother . . • .118 

ReT. J. Belfrage and his Mother 116 

Rev. Richard Cedl and his Mother 121 

ReT. Dr. Eidd and his Mother . . . . : 127 

Pr.- Buchanan and his Mother 184 

ReT. Dr. Dwight and his Mother ..... 141 

Baron Cuvier and his Mother 147 

BttT. Legh Richmond and his Motiier .... 150 
Henry Kirke White and his Mother . • . .162 
Mother of Lncreiia and Margaret DaTidMii . .168 
lines to my Mother • • • •168 
Ifra Ramsay and her Children .... 169 

BeT. William Thorp and his MoUier • .178 
Miss Jane Taylor and her Mother .... 175 
BeT. William Knibb and Ms Mother • . .177 
RiT. Theophilns Lessey and his Mother ... 182 
BeooUectionsofaMother^Ac. 184 



Bnoonragement to Tnjmg Mothers .... 189 

Rev. R. Hooker 192 

Rey. P. Henry 193 

Rer. John Bailey 19S 

Rey. A. Crole, and Rev. G. Bell 194 

Rev. Dr. Annesley and Mrs. HatchinsoD . . . 19S 

ReTB. W. B. Oadogan, Uppenctine, and Knowles . • 196 

Revs. J. Crane and Dr. Davis 19t 

Thomas Pringle, Esq. 198 

Reva L. Foster and Dr. Nevins 199 

Rev. Richard Enill's Mother 200 

A. Jackson and his Mother - 80t 

Randolph's Mother 808 

The Mother of Rev. George Beediar • . . .204 

A Wise Mother . . '. .206 

A Mother's Prayers 206 

The Power of a Mother ..;... 208 

Mother, Home, and Heaven 209 

Rememhrance of a Mother's Inflnence . . 209 

A Fact for Mothers 212 

Rev. Dr. Wangh and his Mother 214 

The Absent Mother . • . • .216 

To a Bereaved Mother .818 

The Grandmother's Death 819 

The Mother in the Closet 882 

Birth-Day Verses to my Mother .... 228 


The BliDd Girl to her Mother 225 

I mifls Thee, mj Mother 225 

On the Death of his Mother 226 

The Mother's Grave %2» 


The Dignity of Mothers 229 

On the Qaalifications Essential, Ac. .... 284 

The Mother's Charge 250 

A Mother's Privilege 257 

Maternal Piety 269 

Power of Maternal Piety 268 

Lines on the Above 264 

On the Mother's Difficulties 266 

Method of imparting Scriptural Ejiowledge 269 

Let every Mother look to the Christian Education, Ac. 278 

Infimt Education 276 

Education of Daughters, Ac. : 280 

Early Religious ImpressioDB, Ac. ... .288 
AMother'sLove 286 



The most tender mterests and the most ardent hopes, 
both of individuals and society, ever rest fondly and 
anxiously upon the young ; consequently the influences 
that minister to the growth of moral and mental excel- 
lence, in the youthful mind, must be one of the most 
important topics on which the reflective and conscien- 
tious mquirer can dwell. Common observation, as 
well as careful investigation, have long decided, that the 
maternal influence is all-powerful in forming the habits 
and developing the faculties, at that important period 
of life, when the opening mind is like wax to receive 
an impression, and like marble to retain it. The fact 
is incontrovertible, that the impressions which linger 
with the greatest tenacity in the memory, are those 
which were traced the earliest ; hence it follows, that 
the office of mother is not only the most dear and in- 
terestmg, but the most important and responsible that 
can devolve on woman. 

The influence of mothers is of a kind that the in- . 
stitutions of society, in different ages of the world,' 
cannot materially affect or deteriorate. Thus, even in 


nations and times when women were depressed by all 
the cruelty and tyranny of heathen institutions, ma- 
ternal influence still operated powerfully; and the 
annals of classic antiquity show us that heathen Greece 
and Rome boasted of mothers who nobly trained their 
sons to the service of their country — who incited the 
studious to aspire to the dignities of the senator, and . 
the ardent to pursue the fierce and stem triumph of the 
warrior. Ambition — an ambition created by false sys- 
tems of faith, seems to have been the leading motive 
that prompted all the devotedness which the matrons 
of heathen antiquity displayed : but happily, under our 
pure and hallowed faith, the Christian mother's holy 
office, is not to teach stem ccmtempt of pain, reckless 
love of danger, fierce hatred of enemies, and all the 
wild catalogue of harsh attainments, once falsely 
thought necessary to form an heroic character ; but 
hem is the nobler and more congenial task to implant 
in the fresh soil of the youthful mind, the seeds of all 
the gentler mond virtues, and all the lovely Christian 

The mother who desires to be qualified for her high 
and onerous office, must first be taught of Him who 
is the fountain of all knowledge. If her soul be illu- 
mined with wisdom from on high, and her mind be 
adorned with the beauty of holiness, then is she quali- 
fied to become, in the best sense of the term, the moral 
guide ai^ teacher of her offspring ; — and wherever 
children gain their merely intellectual culture, it is al- 
ways best for them, that they obtain their first knowl- 


e^ of Nt^ooB ttMiB and moral duties, from the 
teaehitigflof amotiier. Natural tendenoas in this case 
^omefi to aid bolii the teacher and the taught, the 
ksson Is given and recdved m lore ; it is wiitten not 
^nly on the mind, hut it ranks deep into the heart and 
dirells there, nnerased through long yean, influencing 
tiie feelings, regulatmg and puryying ihe impulses ; 
and its effect, Vke hread cast upon the watera, is found 
after many days. 

To dwell on the solemn respoofflbOity of the mater* 
nal office, might have the tendency to depress the 
humble and the diffident The anxious mother, think- 
ing of the Huaortal mind oonmgned to her care and 
teachmg, — ^beholding a creature to be trained for time 
and eternity, may mdeed often be constrained to ez- 
daim: '' Who is sufficient fw these things f' IJninse 
mdeed would be that mother, who was c<mfident only 
in the strength of feeble, erring hulnan nature, for the 
quaMcatipns of her high office ; but if, in humble, pray- 
erful dependence on the Divine blessing, she entere 
on the woik of the education of her ofEspring, the 
probalMfities are all in favor of her realizing, in the 
success of her sincere endeavors, an exceeding great 
reward. The cases are very rare where a judidons, 
tender, persevering mother has been disappointed by 
the objects of her soficitude. It is scarcely in hmnan 
nature, degraded as it is, to resist the mfluence of ex- 
ample — ^the pleadings of tenderness, the admonitions of 
reason, from a mother who ''openeth her mouth wMi 
wisdom, and in Imt toogoa « Hm law ef 1 


Bnt admit that in some very rare instances a pam* 
fill, rather than a pleasmg result, has followed a wise 
and faithfnl discharge of maternal duty. Tet the good 
and pious mother, in her distress, is not without that 
consolation which follows on the right fulfillment of a 
trust. No self-accusation, no remorse mingles bitter- 
ness with her sorrows, — and while life remains to her 
erring child, the hope by her is fondly and rationally 
cherished, that the good seed sown is latent, not lost; 
and that though apparently sterile the soil, ultimately 
it will germinate, and produce fruits of repentance and 

Facts are the best illustrations of argument, and 
happily the biography of the wise and good in every age 
furnishes materials full of encouragement for the timid 
—of comfort for the anxious^-of hope for the disap- 
pomted, and of iastruction for all who bear the sacred 
name of mother. 

The plans of early training, that have resulted in 
eminent success ; the qualifications requisite to the 
right performance of duty; the trials that have at 
length had a happy issue ; are all more impressive 
from the details of actual practical experience, than in 
theoretical disquisitions. 

There is no subject on which theory and practice 
have been more opposed to each other, than on that of 
education. Almost every intelligent mother has found 
that difi&culties occurred in her daily task, which no 
theoretic writer could folly anticipate ; details involving 
important results, which were too minute for the essay- 


ist to enter into, and trials which no system could ex- 
actly meet or obviate ; then, when arguments seemed 
inapplicable and tedious, an anecdote of real life has 
stimulated flagging energies, kindled fresh hopes, ani- 
mated to contmued exertion, and sustamed to that 
perseverance, in well-doing, which has the blessed 
promise, " In due time ye shall reap, if ye faint not/' 
If the hves of great and good men be one of the 
most improving studies that can engage the attention 
of the inquiring mind ; of equal value must be the de- 
tail, however slight, that is given of the maternal influ- 
ence under which those great men were trained : of 
the moral and mental nurture which aided in develop- 
ing the mind, and forming the habits. And when it 
is proved that home influences, the gentle wisdom of 
the maternal mind, the devoted tenderness of the ma- 
ternal heart, have been more mighty for good than any 
other influence — ^the example and inference must be 
most cheering and encouraging to those who are en- 
gaged in the fulfillment of similar duties. To such the 
following anecdotes of the mothers of some of the wisest 
and best of human beings, cannot fail to be peculiarly 
interesting and instructive, since they possess all the 
advantage which practice has over theory, example 
over precept. Take courage, therefore, oh! pious, 
tender mother ; many of the mothers of earth's might- 
iest have, as thou wilt see, sown precious seed weep- 
ing, but come again rejoicing, bearing their sheaves 
with them. 



This renerable man was bom m the city of Tagasta, 
in Nmnidia. His father, Patricius, continued a Pagan 
till near his death ; when, won by the amiable conver- 
sation of his wife, he died in the Christian faith. His 
mother, Monica, eminent for piety, endeayored early 
to instil into his mfant mind the pure doctrines of 
Divine truth, recommending what she taught by her 
holy life. But that God, without the influence of whose 
Spirit all teaching is ineffectual, is sometimes pleaded 
to exercise the faith and patience of lus people, that 
they may <' Be still, and know that he is God ;'' and 
ascribe, not to themselves, but to His name, all the 
glory. Augustine, at an early age, became acquainted 
with men, who, led away by false learning, were igno- 
rant of the true God. Oh, how dangerous is the 
snare of evil friendship ! It is the nature of sin to de- 
ceive, by the false shadow of that good, which m God 
alone is to be found ; and He only who formed the 
heart, can raise it from the low and groveling objects^ 
in pursuit of which, every man m his own ways will 
wander, to behold the glory and excellency of Him 
in whose presence there is " fullness of joy.'^ 

Augustine was early instructed in the Greek and 
Latin languages, in which he made very great progress. 
" Who did not extol," says he, " the noble spirit of 
my father, in laying out so much money, in the edu- 
cation of his son, while yet he had no concern in what 

HONioA AND ST. Auausnia. 16 

maimer I grew up to Thee V* Eloquent, learned, aad 
esteemed wise, Augustine was yet ignorant of that 
Ood, who, though his throne is in the highest heaven, 
dwells also in the humhle and contrite heart. "Mj 
pride," he says, '' separated me from Thee, and closed 
my eyes. I am willing to recollect the scenes of base- 
ness through which I have passed : not, that I may 
love them, but love Thee, my God. I do it from the 
love of Thy love, recollecting my own Very evil ways, 
in the bitterness of memory, that Thou mayest be en« 
deared to me. My soul is a habitation too narrow for 
Thy entrance ; do Thou enlarge it ; it is in ruins, do 
Thou repair it: it has what must offend thine eyes, 
who shall cleanse it, or to whom shall I cry, but unto 
Thee ? Still, Lord, in my childhood, I have much 
to praise Thee for ; for many — ^many were thy g^fte. 
The sin was mine that I sought pleasure, truth, and 
happiness, not in Thee, but in the creature, and thus 
rushed into pams, confufflon, and errors. While I was 
yet walking in sm, often attempting to rise, and sink- 
ing still deeper, my dear mother, in vigorous hope, 
persisted in earnest prayer for me. I remember also, 
that she entreated a certain bishop to undertake to 
reason me out of my errors. " Tour son," says he, 
"is too much elated at present, and carried away with 
the pleasing novelties of his opinion, to regard any 
argument. Let him alone, only continue praymg to 
the Lord for him; in the course of his study he 
will discover his error." All this satisfied not my 
anxious parent; with floods of tears she still per- 


sisted in her request, till a Utile out of patience, 
with her importunity, he said, " Begone, good woman, 
it is impossible that the child of such tears should 

While I was teaching rhetoric in my native town, I 
enjoyed the friendship of a young man of my own 
age; it was a regard influenced by similar studies. 
He was soon afterward seized with a fever. I, who 
loved him with much tenderness, came, not to speak 
of that Saviour, the knowledge of whose name only, 
can make the dying sinner triumph over his last and 
dreadful enemy, but to converse on the subjects in 
which we were wont to rejoice. That vam philosophy 
could not soothe his dying ear. Delivered from my 
madness, he was saved by thee, O God ! After the 
death of my friend, I was indeed wretched; and 
wretched is every soul that is bound by the love of 
mortal things. The load of misery burdened me : I 
knew Thou alone couldst care ; but I was unwillmg, 
weak and helpless. Thy hand, my God, in the secret 
of thy providence, forsook not my soul; day and 
night the prayers of my mother came up before Thee, 
and thou wroughtest on me, in a way marvelous in- 
deed. I was now, in my thirtieth year, still miserable. 
Troubled in my conscience to set apart some portion 
of my time each day for the care of my soul, but then, 
what time shall I have to attend the levees of the great, 
for study, and for relaxation? What then, if death 
should suddenly seize you, and judgment overtake you 
unprepared ? .Men's goings are from the Lord ; it ^ 


from thy inflnenoe that I was persuaded to go to Borne 
instead of Carthage. The deep recesses of Thy wis- 
dom must be confessed by me in this dispensation. 
The true cause of this removal was hidden, at this 
time, from me and my mother, who bewailed at my 
going away, and followed me to the sea-side. I de- 
ceiyed her, though she held me close, with a view to 
hold me backwmd, or go along with me. I pretended 
that I meant only to stay with a friend until he should 
sail. That night I departed privily, and she remained, 
weeping and praying. Thus did I deceive her who 
was such a mother to me ! Yet was I preserved from 
the dangers of the sea ; and there was a time coming, 
when Thou wouldst wipe away my mother's teans, with 
which she watered the earth, and foi^ve this my base 
undutifulness. Courageous through piety, and follow- 
ing me through sea and land, she at length found me 
stOl hopeless with respect to the discovery of divine 
truth. Ambrose, the pious bishop of Milan, was charmed 
with the fervency of her piety, and the amiableness of 
her good works. I was delighted with his learning, and 
the sweetness of his language. I sought for opportu- 
nities of conversing with him ; but engaged in study, 
and surrounded at all times by persons whose necesst- 
tiea he relieved, I sought in vain. His sermons, how- 
ever, were profitable to me. Let the Christian orator 
pray before he speak. Let him lift up his thirsty soul 
to God, before he pronounce anything. Ambrose had 
thus prayed for me. The state of my mind was now 
altered : my meditations on Thee, my God, were like 


die attempts of men, desirous of awaking, but sinkmg 
again into sleep. But Thou, with whom are the hearts 
of all, didst shine on me vehemently ; I trembled ; I 
now sought the way of obtaining strength to enjoy 
Thee, and found it not till I embraced, " the MecBa- 
tor between God and man, — ^the man Christ Jesus," 
who is " God over all blessed for ever," calling and 
saying, " I am the way, the truth, and the life.'' With 
eagerness I took up the yolume of inspiration, particu- 
larly the writings of St. Paul. Here now appeared 
one uniform tenor of godliness, and I learned to rejoice 
with trembling. The books in which I delighted, had 
none of the blessed realities which I found here, name- 
ly. Salvation, the Holy Spirit, and the Gup of Redemp- 
tion. In the others, no one hears, " Come unto me all 
ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." I determined to return to Africa with my moth- 
er : and while preparations were made for our depart- 
ure, we stood in a window facing the coast, at the 
mouth of the Tiber. We conversed on the eternal 
life of the saints. It was evident to us, that earthly 
pleasures deserved not to be named in comparison. 
Erecting our spirits most ardently, we ascended above 
the noblest parts of material creation to Thee, by whom 
all things were made. In that moment the world ap- 
peared to us of no value, and she said soon, *' What do 
I here ? One thing only — ^your conversion — ^was an 
object for which I wished to hve. My God has giv^i 
me this in larger measure : what do I here ?" Fire 
days afterward she fell into a fever, of which she died. 


One who was with us lamented that she was likely to 
leave her body in a foreign land : she looked with anx- 
iety to see his conception so groveling. ** Place this 
body anywhere ; do not distress yourself abont it. 
Nothing/' said she, ''is far to God, — I don't fear that 
he should know where to find it at the resurrection f 
Soon after the loss of his inestimable parent, Augus- 
tine returned into Afiica ; where, by his preaching, di- 
vine truth, which had almost been buried amidst many 
enrors, raised again its head. His writings were trans- 
lated into the Greek tongue, and diffused with rigor 
through the Christian world. For more than a thou- 
sand years previous to the Reformation, the light of 
divine truth, which shone here and there among indi- 
viduals, during the dreary night of superstition, was, 
in many instances, kindled, preserved, and increased by 
his writings, which, next to the Holy Scriptures, were 
the guides of men who feared God : nor have we in 
all history, an instance of so extensive utility derived 
to the church by the works of men. Still they are 
read wiUi defight and edification by thousands. Au- 
gustine, jealous of the honor of the Divine word, con- 
tended zealously " for the faith once delivered to the 
saints," but was in every controversy distingiushed by 
a spirit of meekness and humility, remembering that 
" the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of 
God ;" and that the servants of the Lord must not 
strive, but be "gentle unto aU, apt to teach, patient" 
Moderate m his dress, fomiture and diet, he constantly 
practiced hospitality. As one evidence of his humble, 


teoAer, vatchfal spiriti he had it written on his table, 
thaty whoever attacked the characterB of the absent, 
should be excluded. On one occasion, some bishops 
with whom he was intimate, breaking the rule, he was 
at length so much roused as to say, that dther those 
lines must be erased from his table, or he would retire 
to his chamber. He was very attentive to the wants 
and comforts of the poor. His sermons were plain, 
weighty, serious and affectionate. He followed his 
own rules, and was himself the preacher he described. 
At length, this venerable servant of God was seized 
with a fever, which ended in his dissolution in the year 
430. He lived seventy-six years ; forty of which he 
had been a presb3rter or bishop. He used to say, that 
*' a Christian should never cease to repent till the hour 
of his death." He had David's penitential psahns in- 
scribed on his wall during his last illness. For more 
than fourteen hundred years, Augustine has doubtless 
been in heaven, blessing and adoring God for his pious 
mothf^r; and "though dead he yet speaketh" to all 
Christian parents, to spare no pains for the conversion 
of their children, assured that they "who sow in tean 
shall reap m joy." 



The name of Alfred the Great, though not the earliest, 
was undoubtedly the most eminent that dignifies our 
legislative and regal annals. Beloved by his father far 
above his other sons, every indulgence that could have 
enervated a less noble mind, was shown him. When 
a mere child, his health being delicate, he was sent 
with a princely retinue to travel in the South of Europe, 
and twice before he had attamed his mnth year, he 
had accompanied his royal parent to Rome, then the 
great resort of all that was learned and wise in the 
civilized world. But with advantages thus early be- 
stowed, unusual alike to his tender age and the time 
In which he flourished, and with expenditure profusely 
lavished upon him, yet so unenlightened was the period 
in which he lived, that Alfred at twelve years of age 
could neither read nor write. 

The development of those rare intellectual qualities 
which surmounted every obstacle which desultory 
habits may be supposed to have induced, when con- 
firmed by rank, wealth, and the absence of all con- 
trol, was mainly attributable to his step-mother, 
Judith, the queen of Ethelwulf. She was a princess 
of great learning and rare accomplishments for that 
early period ; and having promised a finely illuminated 
book of SaxiHi poems — ^to which Alfred had been list- 
eomg with enthusiasm — ^to such of her sons as should 
the soonest be able to read them, the innate energy of 


Alfred's donnant talents were roused, and the founda- 
tion was laid of that leammg which produced the 
greatest benefit to his country. 

It is said, that when this promise of the book was 
made, " Alfred returning to Queen Judith, eagerly in- 
quired if she actually intended to give the book to the 
person who would soonest learn to read it?" His 
mother repeated the promise, with a smile of joy at the 
question ; the young prince took the book, found out 
an instructor, and learned to read. When his modesty 
had crowned his wishes with success, he recited its 
contents to her. At a subsequent period of his life, he 
became the great patron of literature ; as soon as he had 
learned Saxon, he studied Latin. He translated many 
Taluable classical and theological works into his native 
tongue, formed a valuable body of laws, divided the 
kingdom into shires, established trial by jury, and 
founded the University of Oxford. His love of poetry 
remamed with him through life, and also his deep grat- 
itude and veneration for the memory of his mother. 
It is presimied that his delight in minstrelsy arose from 
his fondness for the songs of the Anglo-Saxon bards. 
The tones of the harp naturally riveted the attention 
of the enthusiastic boy. But it was his mother's con- 
stant endeavor to impress upon the young prince's mind 
the merit of those deeds, to the repital of which he so 
early loved to listen, and which he himself, in after life, 
so gloriously emulated and excelled. Thus Queen 
Judith not only created in him a love of literature, but 
what was far better, inspired him with a delight in 



A DiSTiKOUiSHSD writer, speaking of the influence of 
the maternal character, in forming the mind of the 
child, has said : '' There is this remarkable in the strong 
afifections of the mother, in the formation of the hterary 
character, that without ever partaking of, or sympa- 
thizing with, the pleasures the child is fond of, the 
mother will often cherish those first decided tastes^ 
merely from the delight of promo&g the happiness oi 
her son : so that genius which some would produce in 
a preconceived system, or implant by stratagem, or 
enforce by application, with her may be only the watch- 
ful labor of love." This remark was exemplified m ref- 
erence to the training <^ John (Ecolampadius, the cel- 
ebrated German reformer. He was bom at Winsperg, 
in Franconia, in the year 1482. His parents were of 
good family, and in very competent circumstances. 
His father bemg a merchant, designed him for his own 
profession ; but his mother was desirous of maUng him 
a scholar, and prevailed on her husband to send him 
to the college of Heilbpm. He was soon removed to 
the University of Heidelberg, where he received the 
degree of Bachelor, at fourteen yea^ of age. Thus 
justifying his mother's presentiment of his talents. 

He hved in remarkable and stirring times, and very 
early made choice of learning as his favorite pursuit 
and occupation — acquiring languages, and devoting 
himself to the seclusion of a monastic life, m the mon- 


astery of St. Bridget, in the city of Augsbiug. It 
pleased God to call Iiiin out of this unwise seclusion, 
to a more active and useful mode of life. In 1521 he 
began to go over to the reformers. In 1522 he left 
his monastery, and went to Basil, in Switzerland, where 
he was sdade curate and preacher of the church of St. 
Martin, and he soon introduced the doctrines of Luther. 
He was again advanced by the senate to the pastoral 
office, and now he boldly discovered to his auditors 
those errors, which by continuance had got firm footing 
in the church. He opened to them the perfection and 
sufficiency of the merits of Christ. He declared to 
them the true value of faith, and explained to them the 
true doctrine of charity, inasmuch, that they began to 
waver in their minds about the authority of the popish 
religion. Luther, at this lime, was introducing the ref- 
ormation in Germany, while Zuinglius began to intro- 
duce it in Switzerland, by publicly preaching against 
the corruptions of the Romish Church. CBcolampadius 
assisted Zuinglius. Upon this foundation he continued 
preaching, not only against indulgences, but also against 
the intercession and invocation of saints ; the sacrifice 
of the mass; the ecclesiastical vows ; the celibacy of 
the priests, and the abstinence from meats. However, 
he did not immediately attempt any alteration in the 
outward form of public worship, until he found the 
ma^trates and citiz^s of Zurich disposed to cast off 
the Romish doctrine, and receive the reformed. 

In promoting the vast work of the Protestant Refor- 
mation, this distinguished man passed the prime of his 


days, aiding the cause he had at heart, by his eloquence 
in the pulpit, and by his pen. After varied exertions at 
home and abroad, he returned to Basil, where he spent 
the remainder of his life in preaching, reading, writing, 
publishing, visiting the sick, and also the care of cer- 
tain adjacent churches, till 1531, when it pleased God 
to visit lum with sickness, that soon confined him to 
his bed, with the greatest appearance of a speedy dis- 
solution. He surrendered his spirit to lus Creator most 
willingly and cheerfully, on the Ist of December, 1581, 
and in the forty-ninth year of his age, and was buried, 
with every mark of respect and concern, in the same 
dty. He was of a meek and quiet disposition, in the 
imdertaking any business very circumspect, nor was 
there an3rthing more pleasing to him, than to spend 
his time in study and contemplation. 


^Thb writings of Lord Bacon form an era in the literature 
of our country. Before the time of this distinguished 
philosopher, learned men were in the habit of believing 
all the statements made by the great men of antiquity, 
respecting the wonders of nature, and the powers of 
art. No one thought of examining and inquiring 
whether these statements were correct; — ^it was thought 
enough, if a scholar knew the different systems and 
opinions of those great men who lived in Greece and 
Rome, hundreds of years before. It is obvious no im- 


provement could be made in scieiice, by merely retail- 
ing the opimons of others. Lord Bacon was the first 
to explode this erroneous system, and he taught that 
all improvement must depend on investigation and ex- 
periment — that no man should receive an opinion with- 
out testing it. And he advanced this doctrine in a 
manner so admirable and forcible, that it changed the 
whole system of study ; and from the time of Lord 
Bacon until the present, society has been rapidly im- 
proving in. all the physical sciences, through an ad- 
herence to his plan of experiment and personal obser- 

The mother of this distinguished man was one of 
the most learned women that England ever produced. 
She was the second daughter of Sir Anthony Cook ; one 
of fpiu: sisters, all of whom were remarkable for their 
intellectual attainments ; and the wife of Sir Nicholas 
Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. Lady Bacon 
was in her youth the governess of Edward the Sixth. 
He was the first British monarch who was bred up in 
the reformed faith, and his foundation and endowment 
of Christ's Hospital, with the scholastic advantages 
entailed by his liberal views on countless numbers of 
his youthful countrymen, his astonishing learning. 
Christian attainments and early death, render his name 
illustrious in the a-nna-la of England. 

Lady Bacon had two sons, Nicholas the elder, who 
became a very eminent man ; and Francis, the future 
philosopher. Both of them owed the early part of 
then: education to theu: accomplished mother, and it is 


admitted, that to her zeal and anxious care — ^to the 
pains which she bestowed upon her sons from their 
earliest infancy, that Francis was mainly indebted for 
the great reputation that will ever dignify his name. 
Lord Bacon's veneration for his mother, and his due 
sense of her valued tuition, was shown by his deske 
to be mterred in the same grave with her, at St. 
MichaeFs, near St^ Alban's. A striking instance, and 
a most beautiful example of the advantage that may 
be derived from maternal influence, early and discreetly 
exerted over the tender mind of infancy. 


My mother, WinilHde, of the house of the Bam* 
bridges, was a woman of that rare sanctity, that were 
it not for my interest in nature, I durst say, that neither 
Aleth, the mother of that just Honor of Clareval, nor 
Monica, nor any other of those pious matrons, an- 
ciently famous for devotion, need to disdam her ad* 
mittance to comparison. She was continually exer- 
cised with ihe afflictions of a weak body, and oft of a 
wounded spirit ; the agonies whereof, as she would oft 
recount with much passion, professing that the great- 
est bodily sickness were but flea-bites to those scor- 
pions ; so, from them all, at last she found a happy 
and comfortable deliverance. And that not without a 
more than ordinary hand of God : for, on a time, he* . 


ing in great distress of conscience, she thought, in het 
dream, there stood by her a grave personage, in the gown 
and other habits of a phjrsician ; who inquiring of her 
estate, and receiving a sad and querulous answer from 
her, took her bj the hand, and bade her be of good 
comfort, for this should be the last fit that ever she 
should feel of this kind ; whereto she seemed to an- 
swer, that, on that condition she could well be content 
for the time, with that or any other torment ; reply 
was made to her, as she thought, with a redoubled 
assurance of that happy issue of this her last trial ; 
whereat she began to conceive an unspeakable joy; 
which yet, on her awaking, left her more disconsolate, 
as then conceiting her happiness imaginary, her misery 
real ; when, the very same day, she was visited by the 
reverend and (in his lime) famous divine, Mr. Anthony 
Gilby, under whose ministry she lived : who upon the 
relation of this her pleasing vision, and the contrary 
efiects it had in her, began to persuade her, that the 
dream was no other than divine, and that she had good 
reason to think, that gracious premonition was sent her 
from God himself : who, though ordinarily he keeps the 
common road of his proceedings, yet, sometimes, in the 
distresses of his servants, he goes unusual ways to their 
relief. Hereupon she began to take heart, and by good 
counsel and her fervent prayers, found that happy pre- 
diction verified to her ; and upon all occasions in the 
remainder of her life, was ready to magnify the mercy 
of her God in so sensible a deliverance. What with 
. the trial of both these hands of God, so had she profited 


in the school of Christ, that it was hard for any fri^d 
to come from her discourse no whit holier. How often 
have I blessed the memory of those divine passages of 
experimental diyinity which I have heard from her 
mouth ! What day did she pass without a large task 
of private devotion ? Whence she would still come 
forth, with a countenance of undissembled mortification. 
Never any Hps have read to me such feeling lectures of 
piety : neither have I known any soul that more accu- 
rately practiced them, than her own. Temptations, de- 
sertions, and spiritual comforts, were her, usual theme. 
Shortly, for I can hardly take off my pen from so ex- 
emplary a subject, her life and death were saint-like. 


This lady was bom November 8th, in the year 1661. 
She was the eldest daughter of Sir Bichard Blake, 
Enight, the fifth son of Thomas Blake, Esq., of Eanm- 
toun, in the county of Southampton, of an eminent 
family, and of Elizabeth, daughter of Dr. Bathurst, a 
phyucian in London, a person of distinguished piety, 
and among the most considerable men of his profession 
in his time. 

At eleven years old, she began to have a true sense 

of religion, and read with great apphcation the books 

that were put into her hands ; but was not entirely 

satisfied with them, aspiring after more solid and sab* 



fime sentiments than what she met with in them. On 
this account it was, that more than ordinary care was 
taken to make her thmk meanly of herself, she heing 
bred np in the greatest privacy possible. 

When she was but little more than seyenteen years 
of age, she was married to Robert Berkely, Esq., of 
Spetchly, in the county of Worcester, grandson of Sir 
Robert Berkely, who was a Judge in the reign of 
Charles II. The match between this young gentleman 
and her was procured principally by means of i)r. 
Fell, then Bishop of Oxford, was Mr. Berkely's guar- 
dian, and had taken the care of his education. The 
Bishop thought that the asasting his friend in that 
match was the greatest service he ever performed for 
him. He contracted an intimate friendship with the 
emment Dr. Stillingfleet, bishop of Worcester, who, to 
his death, maintamed a high regard for her ; and upon 
several occasions, has been often heard to say, " that 
he knew not a more considerable woman in England 
than she was." Thus she continued to live with Mr. 
Berkely, till the year 1693, when it pleased God to 
remove him from her by death. 

In her widowhood, as she had more Idsure than in 
her married state, so she applied it wholly to devotion, 
to reading, to acts of charity, and the offices of friend- 
ship. Particularly, she took upon her the care of her 
late husband's Protestant relations, as if they had been 
her own ; and, indeed, she was a mother to them all 
as long as she lived, and showed a great concern and 
kiiidness for them at her death. She was also very 


good and obliging to all the rest of his family. She 
had then a very plentiful income, which she managed 
with great prudence, as well as in a large ezerdse of 
charity : and, mdeed, she was imeasy at all other kind 
of expenses but what went in that way. While she 
continued at Spetchly, she kept a hospitable table, to 
which the neighboring clergy were always welcome. 
She paid true respect to such of them as were in low 
circumstances, cordially esteeming them for their func- 
tions and labors. She frequently made them presents 
of the most useful books, and to some she generously 
lent money, without requiring any security, expecting 
only to be paid when, by the providence of God, they 
might be put into more easy circumstances. 

She continued a widow nearly seven years, and 
then was married to Dr. Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of 
Salisbury. She found in the Bishop's house a family 
of children, whom she treated, not with a fidse indul* 
gence on the one hand, nor with unnatural severity cm 
the other hand ; but with all that care and true con- 
cem for their education, as if they had been her own ; 
and, indeed, she was loved and respected by them as 
if she had brought them into the world : of which the 
Bishop was so sensible, that he had, by his will then 
made, left them under her direction and authority in 
so absolute a manner, that it has been seldom known 
that so much power was ever entrusted even to the 
real mothers of any children. 

The Bishop, rightly judging that he brought bless^ 
ing and happiness enough into lus femily by bringing 


such a mother into it, desired her to secure all her own 
estate and mcome to herself, with a power to make 
such a will as she pleased, to which he bound himself 
to consent. 

Thus she continued the mistress of all that was her 
own, allowing for her own entertainment what did not 
exceed the rate of a boarding-house, that she might 
the more abound in good works ; which the Bishop ac- 
cepted of, though he was willing, as he often told her, 
"that nothing at all should be allowed on that account." 
After this, she extended her charity further than she 
had done before ; and instead of giving a fifth part of 
her income, which would have been no small propor- 
tion, she was very uneasy at taking only a fifth part to 
ber own use. She seldom went beyond it, and was 
much oftener restrained within it, by which means she 
was enabled to employ considerable sums in charitable 
uses ; particularly the number of children taught at 
ber expense, in and about Worcester and Salisbury, 
amounting to above a hundred. 

To be rich in good works, was visibly the reigning 
design of her whole life, and that in which she most of 
all delighted herself. 

This excellent woman kept a constant journal of her 
life, and every evening employed no inconsiderable 
time in recollecting her actions and discourse in the 
day ; and she would call herself to an account in every 
particular, that the errors of days past might be 
avoided m those that might follow. She died Feb- 
ruary 8, 1709. 



This eminent Nonconformist diyme was bom March, 
1829, in Little Lever, in the Parish of Bolton. IQb 
parents were pious and respectable ; and accordingly, 
he, along with his eight brothers and three sisters, 
were trained up in the fear of the Lord. But, how* 
ever judiciously conducted, early education is not al- 
ways suffident to restrain the united propensities of 
the human heart ; and m the case of Oliver Hey wood, 
the truth of this remark was strikingly exemplified. 
He himself bears testimony to the waywardness and 
improper conduct of his youthful days: — "Then," 
says he, " one of my sisters found fault with me for 
profane swearing: I replied, 'I had not sworn so 
much as a neighbor's child, with whom I used to play ;' 
so foolish was I, and ignorant. How fond was I of 
trifles ! How awkward to good exercises ! How for- 
ward to sinful practices ! How easily led to follow 
bad examples ! I may say, * childhood and youth are 
vanity ; yea, next akin to brutish stupidity, and athe- 
istical blasphemy.' * When I was a child, I spake as 
a child ;' yea, rather like a devil incarnate. ! the 
desperate wickedness of my deceitful heart !" 

At length, it pleased God to awaken his mind to a 
sense of the importance of religion, and to call him 
effectually "out of darkness into God's marvelous 
light." The instructions of his affectionate parents 
were not lost upon him, but, by the Divine blessing. 


they proved the means of preserving him from the 
destruction into which he was hut too obviously rush- 
ing. In his mother, he seems to have been more es- 
pecially indebted for the knowledge of divine things, 
wtiich he acquired in youth, and this he readily owned 
in after life. *'l may say/' to quote his words, "I 
owe much to her, as Hoe instrument, under God, of that 
saving good I at first received, and I hope I shall 
never forget the instructions of a mother." He early 
showed an inclination to prepare for the important and 
highly responsible office of a minister of the Gospel 
In his eighteenth yesS*, accordingly, he was sent to 
Cambridge, where, besides prosecuting his studies with 
diligence and success, he enjoyed the opportunity of 
attaiding the faithful ministry of the celebrated Dr. 
Hammond. The ministrations of this distinguished 
divine were much blessed to him, as well as to many 
other students at the same time. Several of these 
pious young men were in the habit of meeting to- 
gether frequently, for prayer and mutual edification. 

Mr. Heywood was desirous to obtain a scholarship, 
with the view of contributing toward his own support 
at college ; and in all probability he would have ob- 
tained it, had he not been arrested in his studies by a 
severe fever, which reduced him so low, that he was 
not expected to hve. 

In his sickness he solemnly vowed to the Lord, that 
if his life should be spared, he would dedicate it to the 
service of the sanctuary. A vow which he accordingly 
performed, with the eam^t desire of winning seals to 
^^ Redeemer. 




Omsbbihs OvsmoK mm bom at Bedwortk, in tke 
eomty of Warwiok, foiu' miles fiom CoT«iitry, Febnmy 
UQk, 1602, of leligioiis parento. Her iieither iras Mr. 
Yalentine Ovaioii, rector of Bedworth, where helifvd 
a eenstaot and diligent preacher oi God's holy woid, 
liil he was almost dghtyr-two years of age. Hear motk* 
er's aiaidai name was Isaverton : she was a most exr 
aeitont wonum, who todc the whde burden of fuaSif 
afiairs, both witlun and without doofs, from off heor 
fcanband, that he might with the mme freedom attend 
his hdh^ caBing. 

On February 2nd, 1625, (^e same day on whiah 
King GhflLrks I. was crowned,) she was, with the ocn- 
sent <^ parents on both sides, nianied to Mr. S. ClarlBeb 
9^ that time minister of Shotwiek, four miles beyond 
West Chester, who looked upon this match as the 
greatest ootward temporal blessmg tfaat ever God be- 
stowed upon him ; whereby he could eiperimentaBy 
wBfy "that a prudent wife is the gift of God," and 
that in the possesdon id her he enjoyed more merasa 
timn he codd well enumerate. 

Her piety was ognal and exemplary. She was a 
eottstant and diligent attendant on the pnUic ministiy 
ef Grod's holy word; and when she lired where die 
had the opportunity of heanng ketmes in the^ 
d»f, die made dioiee te attend iqpon those wba 1 

M MBS. oATmaan OLAsn's Monaon. 

most plain, practical, and powerful preachers; and 
when days of humiliation and thanksgiving came, she 
never failed to make one among God's people in the 
celebration of them. The Lord's days she carefully 
sanctified, both in public and in piiyate, rising earlier 
upon them than upon others, especially when she had 
many young chDdren about her, that so she might 
have opportunity as well for secret as for family duties, 
before she was called away to the public. She was, 
like David's doorkeeper, one of the first in and last 
out of God's house. Her constant posture at prayer 
was kneeling, thinking that she could not be too hum- 
ble before God. Her usual manner was to write 
sermons, to prevent drowsiness and distractions, and 
to help memory. Of these she has left many volumes ; 
and her practice was to make good use of them, by 
frequent reading and meditating upon them : and if at 
any time she was cast into such places and company 
as were a hinderance to her, in the strict sanctification 
of this holy day, it was a grief and burden to her. 

As a mother to her children, whereof God gave her 
nine — ^four sons and five daughters^she was most ex- 
^nplary, nursing them all herself. She loved them 
dearly without fondness ; was careful to give them nur- 
ture as well as nourishment, not sparing the rod when 
there was just occasion^ and as soon as they were ca- 
pable, she was vigilant and diligent to season their ten- 
der years with grace and virtue, hy instilling into their 
minds the first grounds and prirudples (^religion ; and 
as they grew up, she did more freely discover her ten- 


der affection for them, by instruction, advice, and good 
counsel, as there was occasion ; and when they were 
disposed of abroad, she labored, by her gracious let- 
ters and hearty instructions at their meetings, to build 
them up in grace and godliness ; — and God was pleased 
to let her see, to her great joy and comfort, the fruit 
of her prayers and pains, in keeping them from scan- 
dalous courses, and in working grace in most of their 

Her youngest son taking his leave of her the day be- 
fore her death, she gave him much heavenly counsel 
for the good of his soul, and blessed him, and all bis, 
as she did the rest of her children and grand-chOdren. 
She earnestly desired to be dissolved, and breatiied 
after a fuller enjoyment of Jesus Christ, which she ao- 
coimted best of all. She would sometimes say, " that 
it was a hard thing to die ; and this is a hard work" 

Her understanding, memory, and speech continued 
till within two minutes of death ; and a littie before, 
her daughter speaking to her of Jesus Christ, she re- 
plied, " My God and my Lord ;" and so, June 21st, 
1675, about five o'clock in the morning, she fell asleep, 
exchangmg this life for a better, without any alteration 
in her countenance, but only that her color was gone. 
She closed up her eyes herself, as she would say, " It is 
but winking, and I shall be in heaven." She " changed 
her place, but not her company." She was seventy- 
three years and about four months of age, and had 
been married about fifty years. 



8iK IsAAo Kewtok, the great, the learned, and the 
good ; who followed m the track of his illuBtrions pre- 
decessor, Sff Francis Bacon, styled by Walpole, ''the 
prophet of arts which Newton was afterward to re- 
teal," was indebted to maternal sohcitude for the de- 
velopment of that genius which has never since been 
surpassed, nor ever equaled. 

Unlike Lord Bacon, however, the immortal Newton 
bad no iDustrious father to pave the way for his son's 
celebrity : he had no learned and accomplished mothor 
to direct his infant mind to principles of sdence, at tbe 
time when it was most susceptible of imbibing them. 
He knew not the blessing even c^ a Other's encourage- 
ment, for it was the fate of this great philosopher to be 
a posthumous child, and so sicMy and diminutive was 
he at birth, that little hope was entertained of preserv* 
ing his life. 

But Newton, though not blessed with learned pa- 
r^ts, possessed a devout and Christian mother, whose 
sole aim and study was to sow the seeds of piety and 
virtue in his mind, and whose tender care preserved to 
us, under God's blessing, one destined to be the glory 
of his country, and his race. 

Sr Isaac Newton was bom in 1642, and about the 
tone he attained his fourth year his mother maixied, 
secondly, a clergyman ; but she did not suffer tUs allU 
aace to interfere with her duties to her son. 

SIB xsAAo kxwton's mqthxb. 99 

When the watchful attention of maternal lore had 
fltr«Bgthened his feeble constitution, and her judicious 
instruction had invigorated the dawnmg powers of his 
intellect, she sent him to school to be taught the clas- 
sics ; but having given him such few scholastic advan- 
tages as she considered sufficient for the inheritor of a 
small patrimony, she again withdrew him to his home 
to be initiated into the management of a farm, that, 
like his ancestors, he might be devoted to a countiy 
life. But, for the retirement thus afforded — a retire- 
ment so suited to foster the reflective powers of his 
expandmg mind — ^Newton perhaps had never been led 
to those contemplative habits which afterward pro- 
duced his immortal theory of universal gravitation ; for 
though, at the instance of his uncle, he had been pre- 
viously removed to Cambridge for mathematical in- 
struction, yet the^ predisposition of the young philoso- 
pher for metaphysics was encouraged, if not originally 
induced, by that previous retirement, which was almost 
forced upon him by the prudence and affection of his 
anxious mother. 

Great, indeed, are the obligations of literature to the 
mother whose untiring watchfulness in infancy pre- 
served the life of so great a man, and whose gentle 
sway allowed him in childhood perfect freedom of 
thought and action, save in the one point peculiarly 
apportioned to a mother's care, the task of inculcating 
the truths of our holy religion — a task never more 
beautifully illustrated than by its result ; for Sir Isaac 
Newton was not only a philosopher, but a Christiani 

40 am THOMAS haltburtoh aitd ma mothkb. 

and spent much of his time in elucidating the sacred 
Scriptures ; nor could anything discompose his mind 
80 much as light and irreverent expressions on the sub* 
ject of religion. The illustrious son and the pious 
mother were equally worthy of each other. 

This distinguished man, who became professor of di* 
rinity in the University of St. Andrew's, was bom at 
Duplin, near Perth, December the 26th, 1674. His 
fsdiher, formerly minister of that parish, was ejected, 
with about three hundred others, for nonconformity. 
Both his parents were eminently pious. In 1682, his 
father died, in the fifty-mnth year of his age ; and the 
care of his son's morals and education deyohred on his 
excellent mother, 

Never was the union of piety and literature in the 
maternal character more fully developed than in this 
instance. But for this, the world might never have 
heard, nor the church have felt the benefit of the tal* 
ents and Christian virtues of a Halyburton. This 
excellent woman was the mother of eleven children, 
out of which number she followed nine to the grave at 
a very early age. In addition to her other trials, she 
was driven, by the rage of persecution, to seek an 
asylum in Holland for herself and her children, two of 
which only were now left to her — the subject of the 
present sketch, and her eldest daughter, who waa 


WMe on his yoyage to Holland, be speaks in his 
memoirs of various convictions arismg in his mind in 
times of real or apprehended danger, but acknowledges 
at the same time that he knew nothing of acceptance 
and communion with God, and attributes his concern 
of mind to a mixture of natural fear and a selfish de- 
sire of preservation from supposed danger. He made 
resolutions in the storm which subsided with the winds, 
and corruption that had been dammed in for a little, 
liaving forced down the temporary mounds that had 
been raised against it, broke its way with increased 
violence and force. Having reached land and fixed at 
Botterdam, he was, by the care of his ever watchfol 
mother, placed within reach of the most valuable in- 
structions of one of the suffering ministers. 

In the month of February, 1687, King James issued 
his proclamations for indulgences, when most of those 
who had fled returned home, and his mother and fam- 
ily amongst them. During the voyage, they were m 
imminent danger of shipwreck, but providentially es- 
caped. This danger being sudden, left but little im- 
pression on Halyburton's mind. He took up his abode 
with his mother at Perth, tiU 1690 or 1691. Being 
placed under good scholastic discipline, he made con- 
siderable proficiency. But religion, as yet, made no ef- 
fective impression on his mind, tiU toward the close of 
James' reign, when the fear of a massacre, or some sud- 
den stroke from the papists, revived his concern for his 
eternal welfare. This was aided by evangelical in- 
structions from his mother, increased knowledge and 

42 BiE THOkAs HAirTBmffOir Jam his 

seasons of ackness, and more espeeinDy by tke state 
of public affairs. His fear of the dangers of tbe pa- 
pists haying ceased through the battle of Kil£e<araiycie, 
his remaining difficulty was only with his conTictions, 
wluch he could by no means effect for any considerable 
length of time together. He b^an to be perplexed 
respecting the evidences of revealed religion, till aft^* 
having experienced some mental relief from Robert 
Bmee's *' Fulfilling the Scriptures :" he received fnrth^ 
relief from Mr. Donaldson, asi excellent old mini^^r, 
who came to preach at P«^, and paid a visit to his 
mother. He inquired of his young friend, if he sought 
a blessing from God on his learning, remarldng at the 
same time, with an austere lode, " Sirrah, unsanctified 
learning has done much mischief to the Kirk of God." 
This led him to seek Divine direction in extraordinary 
difficulties; but this exercise, he acknowledges, left 
him >still afar off from God. In 1 690 or 91, his motho* 
removed to Edinburgh, and placed him at Mr. Gavin 
Weir's school, where he remained (a short interval ex- 
cepted) till November, 1692, when he entered the 
college, under Mr. Alexander Cunningham. Here his 
ccmvictions increased, chiefly through the means of ser- 
mons from the pulpit, and the private perusal of Shep- 
herd's ''Sincere Convert." His fofxaal attention to 
the duties of the closet increased, but no solid peace 
was yet attained, till, about this time, meeting with 
Claike's " Martyrology," and being naturally fond of 
histcwy, he read it with eager attention, and received 
nany valuaUe impressions which never left lum. in 


Ma^, 1693, he was adidsed, on his mother's aocoimt, 
as weU as his own, to seek a change of air, and Hkef 
went to. St. Andrew's, where he entered college. Be 
was placed under the care of Mr. Thomas Taiflor, a 
man of learning, and who was exceedingly kind io hiai. 
At St. Andrew's, his regard for religion inereased ; and 
under the ministry of Mr. Thomas Forrester, he began 
to discover the secret evils of his heart. He formed 
many good resolutions, and thought he had feund 
peace ; but it was a structure which had for its founda* 
tion vows, made and sometimes fulfilled, withapparaoit 
success, rather than the atonement of Christ. Having 
aj^lied himself closdy, three years, to the study of 
philosophy, he had thought of going abroad in seardi 
of further improvement; but fear of the sea en tiie 
one hand, and the pressing sdicitation of friends on 
the other, prevailed with hkn to engage as domestie 
chaplain in a nobleman's family. Accordingly, in Au- 
gust, 1696, he went to the Wemyes. Here he met 
with considerable difficulties, arising out of his promi- 
n^it situation, and more especially from the debates 
into which he was drawn on the truth of religimL 

In resortmg to the works of Deists, with a view to 
meet their arguments, his own mind was much per- 
plexed, but the valuable fruit of his study, in reference 
to others, may be seen in his admirable '' Treatise on 
Deism." Nor, in the end, could he regret a research 
which taught him an humble submisoon to the dieti^es 
of Divine revelation, notwithstanding, at present, he 
was the subject of the most dktreasiBg doubts. He 


represents his state of depression, during this conflict, 
as of a nature too grave to have been long sustained. 
But early in the year 1698, he obtained from the 
Scriptures that salutary relief, which was no less ne- 
cessary to his earthly existence, than to his spiritual 
peace. New light broke in upon his mind. From the 
doctrine of the cross he derived that consolation which 
he had in vain sought elsewhere, and that purity which 
IS connected, as a principle, with the religion of Christ. 
His heart was expanded toward others, and for many 
days together, he says, '' he seemed admitted into the 
very ' secret of the Divine pavilion.' " The most over- 
whelming sense of his own worthlessness pervaded his 
mind, and his feelings of reverence for God were un- 
usually exalted. "His joy he states to have been 
' truly unspeakable, and fuU of glory.' " So much was 
he raised above earth, that he could scarcely bend his 
mind to the perusal of any works but those of a de- 
votional character. His views of the enormity of sin, 
he says, '' grew clearer as he advanced in holiness : his 
contrition under it became more pimgent, and his de- 
sire after freedom from its influence more ardent." 
All his former doubts respectmg the being of a God 
vanished in the clear light of an evangelical faith ; and 
he had a witness to the existence of a Being, of infinite 
love and purity, in the internal satisfaction and holmess 
of his heart. The bulky arguments that appeared as 
mountains, " shook at the presence of the Lord, and 
were carried into the midst of the sea." 
The authenticity of the Scriptures, which he had pre- 


Tioiisly disputed, and which could be remoyed ndfther 
by personal investigation, nor by reading the works of 
others, now received sufficient proof in the discoveries 
which they had enabled him to make of his own guilty 
of the being, attributes, and purposes of God ; and the 
transforming, quickening, supporting, and reviving in- 
fluences which they communicated to his own mind. 
In short, reason now became entirely the disciple of 
revelation, and the thoughts of entering the ministry, 
which he had previously laid aside, on account of the 
wavering state of his mind, now returned. In April 
or May, 1698, two ministers from the presbytery of 
Kirkaldy visited him, and pressed him to enter on trial 
for the ministry. He objected his want of reading, of 
a knowledge of language, etc. ; but after repeated so- 
licitations, he complied, and was licensed by them to 
preach, June the 2 2d, 1699. He was appointed min- 
ister of Ceres parish. May 1st, 1700. Within a few 
years after his settlement at Ceres, his health began to 
fail ; and at length his indisposition so much increased^ 
that with great difficulty he went through the labors 
incident to so large a parish. In April, 1710, he was 
appointed, by patent from Queen Anne, professor of 
divinity in the new college of St, Andrew's, through 
the mediation of the Synod of Fife, and delivered his 
inaugural address, in confutation of an atheistical pam- 

In April, 1711, he was seized with a dangerous 
pleurisy. This disease was removed, but he never 
folly recovered his former strength ; and on the 2dd 


of September, 1712, he departed tirhmiplum% to Ub 
eternal rest. Hk last words are among the riehaat 
features which {riety ever bequeathed to the church; 
and the letters which he dedicated on his dying bed 
are specimens of his deyotion and concern for the wel* 
fere of others. He was singolarly fitted for the schools. 
He spoke elegant Latin with fluency: he was weD 
skilled in Greek, but his sickness prev^ted the ezecor 
tkm of his design to learn the oriental languages. Few 
lires have been more useful and distinguished by gen* 
uine piety : his death was a loss to Scotland, and the 
world at large. His works, in addition to those al« 
ready mentioned, conost of, " The Great Conoon of 
Salvation," m three parts. 

Ten sermons preached before and after die celebra* 
tion of the Lord's Supper ; to which are added, two 
sermons, preached upon occasion of the death of a 
friend. To these discourses is prefixed an excellent 
prefeee by Dr. Watts, highly expressive both of their 
own worth, md of their author's. 


Of the power of his memory, for which he was all his 
life eminent to a degree almost incredible, the follow* 
ing early instance was told me in his presence, at 
Litchfield, m 1776, by his step-daughter, Mrs. Lucy 
Potter, as related to her, by his mother. 
When he was a child m petticoats, and had leamt 


to read, Mn. Jokuson one monting put the Conmioii 
Pmyer Book into his hands, pointed to the collect for 
the day, and said, " 6am, you must get this by heast" 
She went up stairs, leaving him to study it; but by 
the time she had reached the second foor, she heard 
him following her. '' What's ike matter ?" said she ; 
" I can say it," he replied, and repeated it distinotlyy 
though he could not haye read it more than twice. 

It is related of the mother of this distinguished 
man, that when he was a young child, of three or four 
years old, that his mother used often to tell him some 
religious truth or moral mixim, and she required of 
hun that he should go and tell the sen^ant-maid what 
be had heard ; — by this simple but admirable plan Ub 
memory was strengthened and ezerdsed, and a yet 
nsore valuable faculty was called into use, namely, a 
facility of communicating, in language of his own, the 
truths he had just been taught 

Dr. Johnson, when advanced m life, speaking of hit 
boyhood, said, "When I was a youth, and used to 
ar^e with my mother on various points, I used to take 
the wrong side of an argument, because it was that 
on which the most ingenious thiags could be said." 
Perhaps none but a mother, and that a kind one, could 
have borne with the waywardness and perversity of a 
boy acting on such a plan ; instead, however, of out" 
ting him short with a reproof, she entered into his 
humor, argued the matter out wiUi him, and thus gave 
him an opportunity of exercising his ingenuity m a 


Dr. Johnson, in after life, was celebrated for his 
conyersational powers. Is it not probable this early 
training was the means of aiding in the development <^ 
his colloquial fluency ? 

In 1759, in the month of January, his mother died 
at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply af- 
fected him ; not that his mind had acquired no firm- 
ness by the contemplation of mortality, but that his 
reverential afifection for her was not abated .by yearSy 
as, indeed, he retained all his tender feelings even to 
the latest period of his life. 

A friend was told that he regretted much his not 
having gone to visit his mother for several years pre- 
vious to her death. But he was constantly engaged 
in literary labors, which confined him to London ; and 
though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged pa- 
rent, he contributed liberally to her support. 

Soon after this event, he wrote his ** Rasselas, Prince 
of Abyssinia ;** concerning the pubhcation of which Sir 
John HawUns guesses vaguely and idly, instead of 
having taken the trouble to inform himself with au- 
thentic precision. Not to trouble my readers with a 
repetition of the Knight's reveries, I have to menti(»i, 
that the late Mr. Strahan, the printer, stated that 
Johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray 
the expense of his mother's funeral, and pay some lit- 
tle debts which she had left. He told Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, that he composed it in the evenings of one 
week — sent it to the press in portions as it was written, 
and had never since read it over. Mr. Strahan, Mr. 


Johnson, and Mr. Dodsley, purcliased it for a hundred 
pounds, but afterward paid him twenty-five poattds 
more when it came to a second edition. 


Jonathan Edwabds was bom at East Windsor, on the 
banks of 'the Connecticut, on the 5th day of October, 
1703. His father was the Rev. Timothy Edwards, a 
most diligent and exemplary pastor, and a distinguish- 
ed scholar. His mother was a woman of very extermve 
information, of a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures, 
and of fervent piety. The education of Jonathan was 
of a very superior character. Brought up "in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord ;" under the care 
of parents at once strict and affectionate, he was pre- 
served, in a great degree, from the company of bad 
companions, and from those ''evil communications" 
which too often prove the ruin of the young. Even 
in early life, however, he seems to have been charac- 
terized by firmness and sedateness, and a sound and 
discriminating judgment. Blessed with enlightened 
parents, they taught him from childhood to exercise 
and strengthen his mtellectual faculties, by cultivating 
an acquamtance with all the objects of contemplation 
within his reach. Their faitliful religious instructions, 
•too, rendered him, while yet a child, conversant with 
his own character and duties, with the way of salva- 
tion by Jesus Christ, and the nature of that eternal 


fife wluch, begun on earth, is perfected in heaven. 
Like faithful servants of their divine Master, they not 
only pointed out the road that conducts to the mansicms 
of bliss, but they showed him examples of perseverance 
therein, and sought for him, by constant prayer, the 
guidance of that Great Bemg, who alone can lead " in 
the way everlasting," 

Their prayers for their son commenced with his very 
existence, and like every prayer of faith, they were 
answered and secured for him at an early period of 
life — the peculiar blessing of God. While yet very 
young, Edwards experienced powerful religious impres- 
sions, and especially before he went to college, during 
an extensive revival of religion in his father's congre- 
gation. These impressions, however, ultunately disap- 
peared, and, in his own opinion, were followed by no 
permanent effects of a salutary nature. 

In his early years, he sefems to have been fond of 
the use of the pen, and the vigor, and the shrewdness, 
and the sound judgment displayed in some pieces 
which he composed before he had attained his twelfth 
year, are almost incredible. They display, in an as- 
tonishing degree, those very qualities which so distin- 
guished him in after life ; and show how much truth 
there is in the poet's remark : — 

" The ohUd is father of the man." 

Any eulogy on the immortal Edwards is unnecessary. 



Mbs. Wbslet was assiduous in teaching her children 
their duty to God and to their parents. She had nine- 
teen children, most of whom lived to be educated. All 
ihue were educated hy herself! Their times of going 
to bed, rising in the morning, dressing, eatmg, learning, 
and exercise, she managed by rule, which was never suf- 
fered to be broken. From her, Mr. John Wesley de- 
rived all that knowledge in the education of children 
which he has detailed so simply, and so successfuUy en- 
forced. It has been considered that a man who had no 
children of his own, could not have known so well how 
they shoidd be managed and educated ; but that wonder 
will at once cease when it is recollected who was his 
instructrecs in all things during his infancy and youth. 
Mrs. Wesley had little difficulty in breaking the 
wills of her children. They were early brought, by ra- 
tional means, under a mild yoke ; they were perfectly 
obsequious to their parents, and were taught to wait 
then: decision in everything they were to have, and in 
everything they were to perform. They were taught, 
also, to ask a blessing upon their food, to behave qui- 
etly at family prayers, and to reverence the Sabbath. 
They were never permitted to conmiand the servants, 
to use any words of authority, in their addresses to 

Mis. Wesley charged the servants to do nothing for 
t From Dr. Admm aarke's Memoir of the Wedey Family. 


any of the children, unless they asked it with humility 
and respect ; and the children were duly informed that 
the servants had such orders. " Molly, — Robert, be 
pleased to do so and so/' was the usual method of re- 
quest, both from the sons and daughters ; and because 
the children behaved thus decently, the domestics rev- 
erenced and loved them ; were strictly attentive to, and 
felt it a privilege to serve them. j 

They were never permitted to contend with each 
other : whatever difficulties arose, the parents decided, 
and their decision was never disputed. The conse- 
quence was, there were few misunderstandings among 
them, and no unbrotherly or vindictive passions ; and 
they had the common fame of being the most loving 
family in the county of Lincoln. 

How much evil may b6 prevented, and how much 
good may be done, by judicious management in the 
education of children ! 

Mrs. Wesley has explamed her own views and con- 
duct in a letter, dated July 24th, l1S2, part of which 
IS here given. " In order to form the minds of chil- 
dren, the first thing to be done is to conquer their will, 
and bring them to an obedient temper. To inform the 
understanding is a work of time, and must, with chil- 
dren, proceed by slow degrees, as they are able to bear 
it ; but the subjecting the will is a thing that must be 
done at once, and the sooner the better ; for by neg- 
lecting timely correction, they wiU correct a stubbom- 
neiss and obstinacy which are hardly ever after con- 
quered, and never without using such severily as would 


be as painful to me as to the child. In the esteem of 
the wodd, they pass for kind and indulgent, whom I 
call cruel parents ; who permit their children to get 
habits which they know must be afterward broken. 
Nay, some are so stupidly fond, as in sport to teach 
their children to do things which, in a while afterward, 
they have severely beaten them for doing. When a 
child is corrected, it must be conquered, and this will 
b^ no hard matter to do, if it be not grown headstrong 
by too much indulgence. And when the will of a child 
is totally subdued, and it is brought to revere and stand 
m awe of its parents, then a great many childish follies 
and inadvertencies must be passed by — some should be 
orerlocked, and taken no notice of; and others mildly 
reproved ; but no sinful transgression ought ever to be 
forgiven children, without chastisement less or more, 
as the nature and circumstances of the ofience may 
require. I insist upon conquering the will of children 
betimes, because this is the only strong and rational 
foundation of a religbus education, without which, both 
precept and example will be ineffectual. ^But when 
this is thoroughly done, then a child is capable of being 
governed by the reason and piety of its parents, till its 
own imderstanding comes to maturity, and the princi- 
ples of religion have taken root in the mind. I cannot 
yet dismiss this subject As self-will is the root of all 
sin and misery, so, whatever cherishes this in children, 
insures their after wretchedness and irreligion ; what- 
ever checks and mortifies it, promotes their future hap- 
piness and piety. 


This is still more evident, if we further consider that 
religion is nothing else than the doing the will of God, 
and not otu* own ; that the one grand impediment to 
our temporal and eternal happiness, being thus self- 
will, no indulgence of it can be trivial, no denial un- 
profitable : so that the parent who studies to subdue 
it in his child, works together with God, in the renew- 
ing and saving a soul. The parent who indulges it, 
does the devil's work ; makes religion impracticably ; 
salvation unattainable ; and does all that in him lies to 
damn his child, body and soul, forever." 

So wise, judicious, and afifectionate a mother, was 
worthy of those illustrious sainted sons, the influence 
of whose learning and piety will bless mankind to the 
latest posterity. 


She loved home, and as the head of a family, aimed, 
by settmg a pattern of chee^l, serious piety, to walk 
** as becometh the Gospel." For the spiritual welfare 
of her domestics she cherished a holy zeal, and discor- 
ered it by regular and patient instruction, as well as 
fervent prayer. "Oh!" she writes soon after her 
marriage, " that the family might be the better for 
me. As far as I know my own heart, I earnestly de- 
sire the salvation of every soul under our roof. Oh, 

^ From WiUuuns's Life of Mrs. Savage. 


Aai they did bat see what I see of the excellency of 
Glirist, the unCphiess of tan, and the yanity of creatures." 
She was the mother of nine children. The care and 
tenderness she discovered in their iofancy, did not ex- 
ceed her concern for their souls. As they advanced 
in years, her pious anxiety increased, and no pains were 
spared to teach them the things of God. A consider- 
able portion of. the evening of the Sabbath was devoted 
to funily instruction. She excelled in the happy art 
of recommending religion to the young. She gained 
then- attention, and encouraged them to be inqusitive 
in divine subjects. To her instructions were added the 
most affectionate prayers ; and her children, who were 
not immediately under her inspection, were visited with 
such letters of piety and love as, with the blessing of 
God, were calculated to produce the happiest effects. 
, Her diary abounds with expressions of concern for her 
children. " Oh !" she writes, " that I could be every 
day travailing to see Christ formed in them. This 
week I was much affected when, reading in course. 
Proverbs xxx. 8, 'Remove for from me vanity and 
lies.' Methinks it is a tery proper prayer for children. 
I have earnestly begged of God to remove from mine 
'vanity and lies.'" At another time, "I read in 
course in my closet, Isaiah liv., with the exposition ; I 
was much affected with the 1 3th verse, ' And all thy chSS^ 
dren shall be taught of the Lord.' Though it is spoken 
of the Church's children, I could apply it to my own 
children in particular, and desire to act faith on it. I 
am caring and endeavoring that they may be taught 


and instructed in the good way. This is the inward 
desire of my souL ' Now, saith Qod, they shall be 
taught of me, and all thy children shall : a sweet ]w>- 
mise ; it much satisfies me.' Lord, set in with poor 
parents, who desire nothing in the :nrorld so much as 
to see their children walk in the 'narrow way that 
leads to life.'" 



Mas. Ga&dinzb, the mother of Col. Gardiner, was a 
lady of a very valuable character. She was, indeed, ex- 
ercised with uncommon trials ; but it pleased God to 
bless these various and heavy afflictions as the means of 
forming her to that eminent degree <^ jMety which wiU 
render her memory dear and honorable to the good, as 
long as it remains. James, her second son, <^ whom 
some account is now to be given, was bom at Carriden, 
in LinHthgowshire, Jan. 10th, 1687. His mother took 
care to instruct him, with gredt tenderness and affec- 
tion, in the principles of Christianity. The good ef- 
fects of her prudent and exemplary care were not sa 
conspicuous as she desired and hoped, in the younger 
part of her son's life ; yet there is great reason to be- 
lieve that it was not in vam. He had many convic- 
tions and restraints, even while going on in the ways of 
wickedness, which probably arose, through grace, from 
these early instructions ; and when religious impieBsian& 


took that hold of bis heart which they afterward did, 
that stock of knowledge which ^was laid up in his mind 
during his childhood, proved of the greatest service. 
And I haye heard him make the observation, as an en- 
couragement to parents and other pious friends to do 
their duty, and to hope for those good consequences 
of it which may not immediately appear. 

He had also a very religious aunt, of whose good 
mstructions and exhortations he often spoke with plea- 
sure, after he became sensible of their value. Ndther 
of those venerable relatives could dissuade him from a 
military life. Indeed, his spiiit was so rash and un* 
governable, that he fought three duels before he had 
attained to the stature of a man. After his remark- 
able conversion, his sentiments on this subject were so 
much changed, that he declined a challenge, with this 
calm and noble reply : — " I fear sinning, though you 
know I do not fear fighting." However, he went on for 
many years in a daring course of disobedience and im- 
piety, neither fearing God, nor regarding man. Though 
ha was exposed to many dangers as an officer abroad, 
and was often delivered in a surprising manner, yet he 
manifested no thankfulness to his great Preserver, but 
continued to wallow in the mire of iniquity. Yet still, 
the checks of conscience, and some remaining principles 
of so good an education, would break in upon his most 
licentious hours ; and I particularly remember he told 
me, that when some of his dissolute companions were 
once congratulating him on his distinguished felicity, a 
dog happening at that time to come into the room, he 

58 coLomn. oabdineb ahd hib moihbb. 

could not forbear groaning inwardly, and saying to him* 
self: "0! that I were that dog!" So true is it, that 
*' there is no peace to the wicked." When men pur* 
sue brutal pleasures, they will not even afford them 
brutal happiness. Notwithstanding these feelings of 
disappointment and remorse, he ran to such lengths of 
sin in this wretched part of his life, that some gentle- 
men, who made no great pretences to religion, declined 
his company, lest they should be ensnared and corrupted 
by it. During this course of sin and folly, he was never 
a skeptic in his principles, but still retained a secret ap* 
prehension that both natural and revealed religion — 
though he did not much care to think of either — ^were 
founded in truth. His continual neglect of the Great Au- 
thor of his bemg, of whose perfections he could not doubt, 
and to whom he knew himself to be under daily and per- 
petual obligations, gave him, in some moments of reflec- 
tion, inexpressible remorse, which wrought upon him to 
such a degree, that he resolved he would attempt to pay 
Him some acknowledgments. Accordingly, for a few 
mornings he did it, repealing in retirement some pas- 
sages out of the Psalms, and perhaps other Scriptures, 
which he stiU retained on his memory ; and owning in 
a few strong words the many mercies and deliverances 
he had received, and the ill returns he had made for 
them. But these strains were too devout to continue 
long in a heart, as yet, quite unsanctified. He was 
stopped short by the remonstrances of his conscience, 
showing him the flagrant absurdity of confessing nns 
he did not desire to forsake, and of pretending to praise 


God for his mercies wlien lie did not evidence sincere 
gratitude in his life. The use of such language befwe 
a heart-searching God, merely as a hypocritical fonn, 
while the sentiments of his soul were contrary to it, 
justly appeared to him such daring profaneness, that 
deeply depraved as his mind then was, the very thought 
of it struck him with horror. He therefore determined 
to lay aside' prayer. These efforts at devotion would 
sometimes return, but they were overborne agam and 
again by the force of temptation, and his heart grew 
still harder. Nor was it softened or awakened by some 
very remarkable deliverances which, at this time, he 
received. Going down a hill on horseback, the animal 
threw him off and pitched over him ; so that, when he 
rose, the horse lay beyond him almost dead. Yet, 
though he did not sustain even the least injury, it made 
no serious impression on his mind. A few weeks 
afterward, as he was returning to England in the 
packet-boat, a violent storm arose, and tossed them for 
several hours, in a dark night, on the coast of Holland. 
At length they were brought into such an extremity, 
that the captain of the vessel urged him to go to pray- 
ers immediately, if he ever intended to go at all ; for 
he concluded, they would in a few minutes be at the 
bottom of the sea. In this alarming situation he did 
pray, and that very fervently, too ; and it was remark- 
able, that while he was crying to God for deliverance, / 
the wind fell ; and quickly after they arrived at Calais. 
But the major was so little affected with what had be- 
faUen him, that when some of his gay friends, on hear- 

60 ocvMinn. gibdxvkb ahb ms motheb. 

ing the story, rallied him upon the efficacy of his pray- 
ers, he excused himself from being thought much in 
earnest, by saying, " that it was midnight, and an hour 
when his good mother and aunt were asleep, or else 
he would have left that part of the business to them." 
Thus did he pour his contempt upon devotion, and 
upon those excellent relatives, to whose prayers and 
endeavors he was so greatly mdebted. His great de- 
liverance from the powers of darkness was now nearly 
approaching. He recounted these things to me with 
the greatest humility, as showing how utterly unwor- 
thy he was of the miracle of Divine grace, by which 
he was, quickly after, brought to so powerful a sense 
of reli^on. This memorable event happened toward 
the middle of Joly, 1719. The major had spent the 
evening (and, if I mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in 
some gay company, and had formed a criminal engage- 
ment to be attended at twelve o'clock. The company 
broke up about eleven, when he went into his chamber 
to kin the tedious hour by reading some amusing book. 
But it happened that he took up a religious book, 
which his good mother or aimt had, without his knowl- 
edge, slipped into his portmanteau. It was called, if 
I remember the title exactly, " The Christian Soldier, 
or Heaven taken by Storm ;" it was written by Mr. T. 
Watson. Guessing, by the title of it, that he should 
find phrases of his own profession spiritualized, in a 
manner which he thought might afford liim some di- 
Tersion, he resolved to dip into it ; but he took no 
serious notice of anything he read in it ; and yet, while 


this book was in his hand, an impfessito wtts made 
upon his mind (perhaps only God knows how) which 
drew after it a train of the most important and happj 
consequences. He thought he saw an unusual Uaae 
of light fall upon the book which he wbs readii^, whMi 
he at first imagined jought happen by some accident in 
the candle. But lifting up his eyes, he apprehended, 
to his extreme amazement, that there was before him, 
us it were, suspended in the air a visible representation 
of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross, surrounded 
on all sides with a glory ; and was impressed as if a 
voice had come to this effect : — " Oh ! sinner, did I suf- 
fer this for thee, and are these thy returns ?" Stmdc 
with so amazing a phenomenon as this, there remained 
hardly any life in him, so that he sunk down in the 
arm-chair in which he sat, and continued, he knew not 
exactly how long, insensible. At lei^th he rose in a 
tumult of passions not to be conceived, and walked to 
and fro in his chamber, till he was ready to drop down 
in imutterable astonishment and agcmy ; appearing to 
himself the vilest monster in the creation of God, who 
had all his life-time been crucifying Christ afresh by 
his sins, and now assuredly saw, by a miraculous vis- 
ion, the horror of what he had done. With this was 
connected such a view of the majesty and goodness of 
God, as caused him to abhor himself, and to repent as 
in dust and ashes. He immediately gave judgment 
ag^st himself, that he was most justly worthy of 
eternal damnation. He passed the remainder of the 
night waking, and could get but little rest in several 


that foDowed. His mind was constantly taken up in 
reflecting on the Divine purity and goodness; the 
grace which had been proposed to him in the Gospel, 
and which he had rejected ; the smgular advantages 
he had neglected and abused ; and the many favors of 
providence which he had received, particularly in res* 
cuing him from so many imminent dangers of death, 
which he now saw must have been followed with such 
dreadful and hopeless destruction. The privileges of 
his education, which he had so much despised, now 
lay with an almost insupportable weight upon his 
mind ; and the folly of that career of sinful pleasure, 
which he had for so many years been runnmg with 
desperate eagerness, now filled him with indignation 
against himself and the great deceiver, by whom (to 
use his own phrase) he had been " so wretchedly and 
scandalously befooled." This he used often to express 
in the strongest terms. Before he left his chamber the 
next day, the whole frame and disposition of his soul 
was modeled, and changed ; so that he became, and 
continued to the last day of his exemplary and truly 
Ohristian hfe, the very reverse of what he had been 
before. Thus, this profligate son was stopped, like 
Saul of Tarsus,' in his course of opposition to the holy 
Lord Jesus, led captive by the power and grace of hk 
divine and compassionate Redeemer, and so transform- 
ed in his feelings, principles, and character, that he 
now zealously built up the faith which before he de- 
. .!nu8 soldier of Jesus Christ now entered with conr- 


age and steadiness on his Cluistian course, and was 
mnch more ferment and spiritual than the generality of 
professors. He used constantly to rise at four in the 
morning, and to spend his time till six in the secret 
exercises of devotion — reading, meditation, and prayer. 
It certainly tended very much to strengthen that faith 
in God, and reverent, animating sense of his presence, 
for which he was so eminently remarkable. In all 
the trials and services of life, he " endured, as seemg 
Him who is invisible." When a journey or a march 
required him to be on horseback by four, he would 
be at his devotions by two; and I doubt not but 
his unconmion progress in piety was in a great meas- 
ure owing to these resolute habits of self-denial. He 
early began a practice, which to the last day of his 
life he retained — of reproving vice and pro&neness, 
and was never afraid to debate the matter with any, 
tmder the consciousness of such superiority in the good- 
ness of his cause. 

Being for some years out of commission, he readed 
in London, where he continued in communication with 
the Christian Society, under the pastoral care of Dr. 
Calamy. As his pious mother also belonged to the 
same, it must have been an unspeakable pleasure to 
her to have frequent opportunities of conversing with 
such a son ; of observing, m his daily conduct and dis- 
courses, the blessed effects of that change which Di- 
vme grace had made in his heart ; and of sitting down 
with him every month at that sacred feast, where Chris- 
so frequently enjoy the divmest entertainments • 


which they expect on this side heaven. I tilie rather 
mention this ordinance, because, as this excellent lady 
had a very high esteem for it, so she had an opportu- 
nity of attending but the very Lord's day immediately 
precedbg her death, which happened on Thursday, 
October Tth, 1725. He maintained her handscnnely 
as an affectionate and dutiful son ; and when she ex- 
pressed her gratitude to him, he assured her, that he 
esteemed it « great honor, that God put it in his power 
to make such a small acknowledgment of all her care 
for him, and especially of the many prayers she had 
offered on his account, which had already been so re- 
markably answered, and the benefit of which he hoped 
ever to enjoy. Parents may here see what advantage 
it is, even to themselves, to have their children pious, 
and what pains they ought to take, by precept, exam- 
ple, prayer, and every other suitable means, to promote 
their spiritual welfare, if they wish to see them kind 
and obedient, instead of being, as wicked and neglected 
children will be, rebellious, selfish, and imgrateful. 
After the removal of his honored parent, this servant 
of God still went on his way rejoicing. On one occa- 
sion, he thus writes to an intimate and pious friend : — 
" What would I have given this day for paper, pen, 
and ink, when the Spirit of the Most High rested up(»i 
me ! 0, for the tongue of an angel, to declare what 
God hath done this day for my soul ! But it is in vain 
to attempt it : all that i am able to say is this, that my 
soul has been for some hours joining with the blessed 
spiritB above in giving 'glory, and honor, and praiae, 


unto Him that aitteth upon the throne, and to the 
Lamb, for ever and erer.' My praises b^an from a 
nnewed view of Him whom I saw pierced for my 
transgressions. I smnmoned the whole hierarchy of 
beayen to join with me ; and I am persuaded they all 
echoed back praises to the Most High. Sure I need 
not make use of many words to persuade you tibat 
are saints to join me in blesnng and praiang his holy 
name." « 

This pions parent, exemplary Christian, and excel- 
lent man, was killed at Preston-Pans, in Scotland, Sep- 
tember dlst, 1745, leaving an example, both as a saint» 
and as the head of a family, which I hope every reader 
of this.;iaiTatiye will, through grace, endeayor to imi* 


The celebrated author of "The Family Expositor" 
was bom in London, June 26th, 1702. His father, 
Daniel Doddridge, was an oilman, 'resident in London, 
and the son of one of the ministers ejected by the Act 
of Uniformity. His mother was the daughter of the 
Rey. John Beauman, of Prague, m Bohemia, who was 
compelled to forsake his native conntiy, in consequence 
of the persecutions which threatened to succeed the 
expulsion of Frederick, Elector Palatine. Dr. Dod- 
dridge was the twentieth and youngest child ; all the 
rest, except one daughter, haying died in infancy. It 


IS not a little nnguktr, tliat wlien Doddridge was bom, 
lie was laid aside as a dead child ; but a p^-son in the 
room observing some motion in him, took that care of 
him upon which the flame of life depended. His pa^ 
rents were eminently {Hons > and his earliest years wers 
by them consecrated to the acquisition of religions 
knowledge. The history of the Old and New Testa- 
ment his mother taught him, before he could read, hyi 
means of sorfie Dutch tiles, in the chimney comer of ike 
room where they resided. He was first sent to school^ 
to a Mr. Stott, who instructed him in the rudiments of 
Greek and Latin ; but from this seminary he was re- 
moved, when ten years of age, to a Free School, at 
Eingston-upon-Thames, of which his grandfather, 
Beauman, had been formerly the master. He remain- 
ed at that school three years, and was distinguished 
for his piety and diligence. In 1715 he was deprived 
by death of his father, and not long afterward of his 
excellent mother, to whose instructions, under the Di- 
vine blessing, he owed his early religious impressions. 
Of both his parents he always spoke in terms of the 
warmest affection and respect. In the same year, he 
was sent to the school of Mr. Nathaniel Wood, of St. 
Albans, where he commenced his acquaintance with 
the learned and excellent Mr. Samuel Clark, who not 
only became to him a wise counselor and an affection- 
ate minister, but a disinterested, generous, and liberal 
friend and benefactor. 

At that school he greatly improved himself in the 
knowledge of the learned languages, became perfeet 


Bi90t» of liis nadye tongue, and accustomed fainiMlf 
not oaly to fona ideas, but with propriety and eleganee 
to ^scprees thenou He devoted mueh time to reading^-^ 
diligeiitij studied history, both citiI and ecdeawatical ; 
and spent a great part of his time in the study of the- 
eAogy. Ifis piety now became more habitual and OTi* 
dent^ and on February 1st, 1718, whea he was sixteen, 
he was admitted a member of tl» church, under the 
pastoral care of Mr. Olark. * 

In October, 1710, Mr. Claik placed him in the acad- 
emy of t^ learned and pious Dr. Jennings, who le* 
sided at E^bworth, in Leicestershire, There Dr. 
Doddridge greatly improved in every branch of fitera- 
tore, and besides attending to all his academical studies, 
be, in one half year, read sixty books, oonsistmg prin- 
cipally of theology, and that not in a hasty and careless 
manner, but with great seriousness and advantage. 
Though young, cheerful, and devoted to the attainment 
of knowledge, he did not, however, forget the more 
important concerns of his own personal reUgion. He 
fcmned some admirable rules for the r^ulation of his 
conduct and the improvement of his time, which he 
did not merely form, but cheerfully and invariably 
performed. In 1723, his tutor, Mr. Jennings, died, 
having not long removed from Knibworth to Hinckley. 
Soon after his death. Dr. Doddridge preached his fint 
sermon at ICnckley, from the words, "If any man 
love not the Lord Jesus, let him be anathema marana- 
tha ;" and two persons ascribed thdr conversion to the 
bksong of God on that sermon. For more than a 


year he continued to preach at HincUej and the neigb- 
boring places, when, haying receiyed an inyitation from 
the congregation at Enibworth, he accepted their otter, 
and was there settled in June, 1723. In that retired 
and obscure yillage, there were no external object? to 
diyert his attention from the pursuit of his studies, and 
his fayorite authors; Baxter, Howe, and Tillotson he 
read with frequency and attention. To his pastoral 
duties he was not, howeyer, inattaitiye; but in relig- 
ious conyersations and yisits of mercy he spent a suit- 
able portion of his yaluable time. His preaching was 
plain and practical ; and whilst his mind was richly 
stored with knowledge, and his imagination was liyely, 
he made all his talents subseryient to the moral and 
reli^ous improyement of the people committed to his 
care. During the whole year he accustomed himself 
to rise eyery morning at fiye o'clock, and thus, as he 
would sofnetimes say, he had ten years more than he 
otherwise would haye had. 

Toward the end of the year (in 1729), he recdyed 
an inyitation to settle at Northampton, in consequence 
of the remoyal of Mr. Tingly, the Dissenting minister, 
to London, and urged by Mr. Some and Mr. Clark to 
accept the call. He quitted Harborough, December 
the 14th, and immediately entered on his more arduous 
and important duties. Soon after his settlement, he 
became seriously ill ; but on his recoyery in March, 
l?dO, he was set apart to the pastoral ofiKce. In this 
year he published a tract, entitled, '' Free thoughts on 
the most probable means of reyiying religion, occaeaoa- 


ed by the late inquiry into the causes of its decay, ad- 
dressed to the author of that inquiry." That tract 
was favorably received ; and for its spirit and temper 
deseryes much praise. He performed the various du- 
ties of a Dissenting pastcnr with exemplary diligence 
and affection. His sermons were well studied, and 
delivered with zeal and affection. He watched over 
his flock like one who had to give an account. He 
prayed with and for them. He visited the edck; at- 
tended to the wants of the poor ; admonished those 
wbo erred ; cautioned those who wavered ; confirmed 
Hiose who were undecided ; and in every respect at- 
tended to the doctrines, discipline, and practice of his 
church and congregation. 

Dr. Doddridge ^sustained all the relationships of life 
with honor to himself and advantage to his family, and 
the world; so that as he approached nearer to the 
eternal world, his path, indeed, resembled that of the 
just, which is as the shinmg light that shineth more and 
more unto the perfect day. 


This pious and useful minister was bom at Brecon, in 
Soutb Wales, on the 0th September, 1747. His father, 
Mr. Bartholomew Coke, was an emment surgeon, re- 
siding m that place, a man of great respectability, and 
several times filled the office of chief magistrate of the 
town. Thomas was th^ only child, and his affection- 



tfie parents watched over his infant days with Bnusnal 
aoiieitiide. In early life be was^ however, depriyed by 
death of his father ; and to the care of bis widowed 
mother he was consigned. She was emin^itly quali- 
ied for the charge that devolred on her, and early 
ttiove to implant in bis youthful mind the seeds of 
piety and wisdom. She placed him at the collie- 
school at BrecKHi, where be receiyed the first rudiments 
of knowledge, and became attentive and studious. At 
the age of sixteen, he was removed from Brecon to 
Oxford, and in the Lent term of his seventeenth year 
was entered a gentleman commoner at Jesus College, 
in that University. At college he became acquainted 
with the vicious and profane, and was even a captive to 
those snares of infidelity which be had at first survey- 
ed with detestation and horror. His principles being 
thus tamted, his conduct became infected ; but he was 
preserved, to a great degree, from committing those 
abominable crimes which he observed perfonned by 
others. Mr. Coke was, however, unhappy, and amidst 
all the noise and clamor, and mirth and folly of his 
associates, he was often pensive and discontented. 
Doubtless, the remembrance of his widowed mother's 
pious lessons and instructions clung to his mind, and 
kept his conscience from sinking into a complete leih- 

At this time he paida visit to a clergyman in Wales^ 
and, by the preaching of the Gospel at that place-*-* 
by perusing the discourses and disputations of Bishop 
Sherlock — and by reading the celebrated treatise on 


Begeneration, by Dr. Witherspoon, his mrnd became 
gradually enlightened, though he did not, at that time, 
become a Christian. On Jmie 17th, 1775, he took his 
degree of Doctor of Civil Laws ; and obtained a curacy 
at South Petherton, in Somersetshire, where his con* 
gregatiim increased. He built a gaUery to the church 
at his own expense. He evinced great anxiety for the 
improvement of his charge, and was speedily accused 
of bdng a Methodist. 

To the doctrines of Mr. Wesley he became attached, 
zealously preached them at SouUi Petherton, received 
a reprimand for his zeal from the Bishop of Bath and 
Wells, and was eventually dismissed by the Bector cf 
the parish for his pious concern to promote the welfaze 
of his parishioners. Banished from the church of 
South Petherton, he preached in the open air, and at- 
tracted considerable attention. In the month of July, 
1777, he met with Mr. Wesley, conversed with him, re- 
ceived an explanation of his plans and system, and de- 
termined to become a preacher in that society. As a 
preacher in London, he became very popular, and his 
fame rapidly spread over an extensive district. In 
1780, Mr. Wesley appointed him to superintend the 
London circuit, and he subsequently visited the various 
Wesleyan societies in Ireland, and was throughout life 
distinguished for zeal, ability, and piety. After devot- 
ing many years to the establishment of Christian Mis- 
sions in the West Indies, etc., etc., he died on his 
passage to India, January 1st, 1814. 


Mbs. Hannah Woodd was bom at Eicbmond, in Sur- 
rey, <xi the 19th of April, 1*736. In July, 1759, she 
was married to Mr. Basil Woodd, who was also b<»ii 
at Richmond, in 1730, and with wh<»n she had been 
acquainted from her infancy. Such a unicxi, cemented 
by long endearment and similarity of disposition, prom- 
ised a scene of much temporal felicity ; but a myste- 
rious dispensation of Divine providence determined it 
otherwise. The January following, Mr. Woodd, bdng 
then from home on a visit, was seized with a violent 
fever, and died on the 12th of that month. So great 
a shock, to a mind of her sensibility, could leave no 
faint impression ; but it pleased God to support h^ in 
this keen ^tiial, and on the 5th of August following she 
was delivered of a son. Providence wcmderfully inter- 
posed in her favor ; and both root and branch, though 
then apparently withering, were preserved together, 
just as many years longer as she had then lived. 

The afflictive circumstance of her husband's death, 
nevertheless, proved an eventual blessing, though con- 
veyed in the disguise of woe. By one stroke her mind 
was severed from worldly prospects, and being rent 
from the love of the creature, she now began more anx- 
iously to seek the knowledge and love of the Creator. 
She had from early hf e been of a devout turn of nund, 
a strict observer of moral duties, and the ritual of re- 
ligion ; but now, m the day of adversity, she was 


brought to deeper views of the depravity of her hearty 
and the need she stood m of a Saviour. She perceived 
the insufficiency of her own lighteousness, and the ne- 
cessity of being bom again. 

Pious friends who had sympathized in her late af- 
fliction, now observing the spiritual concern of her 
mind, availed themselves of this opportunity to bring 
her under the mmistry of the Gospel. Amongst these 
were principally Mrs. C«nyers, and Mrs. Wilberforce, 
with whom her acquaintance had commenced at school, 
and by whom she was about this time introduced to 
the acquaintance of Dr. Conyers, and the Rev. Mr. 
Venn. In the spirit of true Christian friendship, they 
lamented that she had hitherto had no better instruc- 
tion than mere moral essays, and brought her acquaint- 
ed with sound evangelical principles. These proved 
indeed the spiritual food which her soul hungered after : 
she received them in faith and love, adored them in 
her life, and found them her triumph in her dying hour. 
From this happy period, to a disposition naturally be- 
nign and amiable, were added the graces of the Holy 
Spirit ; and the Christian motive of love to the Lord 
Jesus, gave life and spirituality to her moral duties. 
Behgious exercises, which hitherto she had not regard- 
ed higher than as a devout fprm of godliness, now be- 
came her soul's dehght. She ordinarily retired three 
tames in the day for private prayer ; at morning, noon, 
and at evening. Love to God her Saviour, led her 
with cheerful feet to the courts of the Lord's house — 
a privilege she so highly valued, that she rarely per- 


mitted inclement weather or the decay of her health to 
interfere with it. 

Though filial affection may be suspected of exagger- 
ating a mother's excellence, yet it is but justice to say 
that in erery department she was a lovely ornament of 
the truth as it is in Jesus ; particularly as a daughter, 
a mother, and a mistress. As to the former relation — 
she constantly attended her father till his death, at the 
advanced age of eighty-seven, who, though he was very 
much prejudiced against her religious pnnciples, yet 
lived to have his mind greatly won by her uniform con- 
duct ; and on his death-bed he regretted that he had 
ever opposed her, and acknowledged in the most af- 
fecting manner, his long experience of her filial duty. 

As a mother, the Rev. Dr. CoHyers frequently said, 
'' That he never saw such an instance of maternal af- 
fection." Her son says, " This is a subject on which, 
I hope, I shall never think without heartfelt gratitude 
to her and to God, who so favored me. The whole of 
her deportment was calculated to win my early atten- 
tion to religion. I saw in her what it could do : — How 
happy 1 how cheerful ! how humble ! how holy ! how 
lovely in life, and afterward in death ! how full of mer- 
cy and good fruits, it could render the happy possessor ! 
As I was the only son of my mother, and she a widow, 
she might perhaps lean to the side of over-indulgence. 
Yet, if my heart do not deceive me, in trusting that I 
love the ways of God — I am indebted, through Divine 
grace, for that inestimable benefit, to the impression of 
her great and tender kindness, her uniform example. 


and particularly her pious and afifectionate letters, wlien 
I was about thirteen years old. Such, indeed, has 
been the impression of her parental affecti<Mis, that 
though my friends, I believe, have never charged me 
with filial negligence, yet since her decease, I have re- 
gretted very frequently, that in many Httle instances, I 
conceive I might have shown her still more respect and 

Evidences of the joyful state of her mind may be col- 
lected from what she said on her death-bed. On her 
son's return from St. Peter's, Comhill, that evening, 
she took hold of his hand and seemed much aninuitcid. 
" God," said she, "my dear, has been very gracioos 
this afternoon : he sent my son from me, but he sent 
Himself to me. 0, 1 am very happy ! I am going to 
my mansion in the skies. I shall soon be there ; and 
oh, I shall be gkd to feceive you to it. You shall come 
in, but you shall never go out — ^no, never I" Pausing 
a little, she said : " If ever you have a family, tell the 
children they had a grandmother who feared God, and 
found the comforts of it on her death-bed. And tell 
your^artner I shall be glad to see her in heaven ; when 
you come to glory, you must bring her with you. Let 
me tell you by my own experience, when you come to 
lie upon your deaih*bed, an interest in Jesus will be 
found a precious possession. 01 what a mercy of mer- 
dea that we should be brought out of the bondage of 
Egypt, and united together m the kingdom of God's 
dear Son ! I exhort you to preach the Gospel ; preach 
it faithfully and boldly. Fear not the face of man. 


Endeavor to put m a word of comfort to the humble 
beUerer — to poor weak souls. I heartily wish jou sue- 
oess : — may you be useful to the souls of many 1" At 
another time, she said, addressing her son : " God has 
greatly indulged my deshes ; has answered my prayers 
in a wonderful manner. How has he deslt with me in 
sparing me so long to see you, my son, settled in life ! 
I remember, when I used to express my anxiety for 
your eternal welfare to a friend of mine, he always said 
— in allusion to the story of Monica, the mother of St. 
Augustine^' Go home and make yourself easy — ^the 
child of those tears can never perish.' Now, my dear» 
when God has removed me, imitate St. Augustme's be- 
havior after the death of Monica; do not be dejected ; 
think of the happiness I shall then be enjoying, and say 
as he said, when some wondered at his cheerfulness, 
<My mother is not a woman to be lamented.' " She 
es^ired on the 12th of November, 1784. 


Tms learned and distinguished man was bom in Lon- 
don, on the eve of St. Michael, in the year 1746. Mr. 
Jones, his father, survived the birth of his s<»i William 
but three years : his family was respectable, and his 
character excellent. The care of the education of Wil- 
liam now devolved upon his mother, who, m many re- 
spects, was eminently qualified for the tasL She had 
by nature a strong understanding, which was improved 


hy bis conTersation and instniction. Under the tuition 
of her husband, she became a considerable proficient in 
Algebra, and with a view to qualify herself for the office 
of preceptor to her sister's son, who was destined to a 
maritiine profession, made herself perfect in Trigonome- 
try and the theory of Navigation. Mrs. Jones, after 
the death of her husband, was urgently and repeatedly 
solicited by the Countess of Macclesfield to remain at 
Sherbom Castle ; but having formed a plan for the edu- 
cation of her son, with an unalterable determinaticm to 
pursue it, and bemg apprehensive that her. residence 
at Sherbom might interfere with the execution of it» 
she declined accepting the friendly invitation of the 
Countess, who never ceased to retain the most afiection- 
ate regard for her. In the plan adopted by Mrs. Jones 
for the instruction of her son, she proposed to reject 
the severity of discipline, and to lead his mind insensi- 
bly to knowledge and exertion, by exciting his curios* 
ty and directing it to useful objects. 

She so cultivated his mmd, that at four years of age 
he was able to read any English book, and until his 
eighth or ninth year, she, was his only preceptor. When 
in his ninth year he had the nusf ortune to break his thigh 
bone, which detained him at home more than a year ; 
his mother was his constant companion, and amused 
him daily by the perusal of such English books as were 
adapted to his taste and capacity. To his incessant 
importunities for information she was in the habit of 
ufflng one reply, which from his earliest years made a 
due impression on him. This remark was» *'read and 


you will know" At a sabsequent period of bis life. 
Sir WiUiam Jones was in the habit of saying, that be 
owed all his intellectual improvement to his early obe- 
dience to his mother's favorite maxim — " read and you 
will know" 

With regard to religions instruction, she early taught 
him the creed and the ten commandments, but one ef- 
fect of her daily maxim is too remarkable to be passed 
over in silence. One morning, as he was turning over 
the leaves of a Bible in his mother's closet, his atten- 
tion was forcibly arrested by the sublime description of 
the angel, in the tenth chapter of Revelation ; and the 
impression which his mind received was never after 
erased. At a period of mature judgment, he consid- 
ered the passage as equal m sublimity to any of the 
inspired writings, and far superior to any that could be 
produced from mere human compositions ; and he was 
fond of relating and mentioning the rapture which he 
felt when he first read it. This remarkable incident 
took place before he had completed his fifth year. 

His spiritual attainments as a Christian were quite 
worthy of his learning and literary distinction. In his 
mature years, when he had secured enduring fame and 
woridly honors, he says : " I have carefully and regu- 
larly perused the Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion, 
that the volume called the Bible, independent of its 
divine ori^, contains more sublimity, purer morality, 
more knportant history, and finer strains of eloquence^ 
than can be collected from all other books, in whatever 
laogoage they may have been written/' 



This lady was distmgukhed during the last century 
for her benevolence and piety. She was bom at Pres- 
ton, m North Britain, in the year 1742. She was the 
daughter of Dr. Wm. Maxwell, a gentleman of great 
fortune and respectability, also residing at Preston, 
Four months previous to her birth, Dr. Maxwell died ; 
and on her excellent and amiable mother, afterward 
Lady Alva, devolved the task of educating her daugh« 
ter. The instructions she received were such as to im- 
prove the heart, as well as to ^ilighten the understand* 
ing. Her mind was strpng and vigorous, yet polished 
and delicate. Her memory was retentive — ^her perBon 
interesting — her behavicnr afiable — her unaghiation 
lively, and her temper excellent. Her juvenile yean, 
though sedulously watched over by her land, intelllgeni 
mother, were, nevertheless, too much devoted to tiie 
follies and gayety of fashionable life. When, howev* 
er, she had attained the age of twenty-three years, her 
mind was aroused, by a serious illness, to r^ections on 
h» present character and future prospects ; and mus» 
ing on the first questions in the Assembly's Catechism: 
^* What is the chief end of man ?" " It is to glorify 
God and enjoy him forevex." She asked herself, ** Have 
I answered the design of my being ? Have I gk^rified 
God? And shall I enjoy him forever?" Thus re- 
flecting, she gradually felt the sinfulness of her nature ; 
perceived the total alienatkm of her heart from G^; 


and applied to her heavenly Father for pardon and 
grace. Like many young professors of religion, she 
endeayored at first to conceal from observation^ the 
change which had been wrought in her heart, and, as 
for as possible, to compromise with the world, but such 
ccmduct she soon discovered to be incompatible with 
spirituality of mind ; and she therefore determined <m 
making an open and decided profession of Christianity. 
She employed much of her tame in acts of benevolence, 
in wise and pious conversation, in an extensive, judi- 
cious, and profitable correspondence, and in eyery 
other means, for promoting the conversion of sinners, 
and the edification of saints. She expended much 
money in printing and circulating religious tracts, and 
at her desire and expense was composed and published 
a Gadie translatian of Allein's ''Alarm to the Tin- 
oonverted," which has been productive of much good 
in the Highlands. 

She devoted huge sums of money in placmg the 
families of religious individuals in situations of comfort 
She paid great attention to the religious instruction of 
the poor, and, in consequence of such instruction, very 
many became useful members of society. In Edin- 
burgh, she erected a large chapel, and added to it a 
Free-school, for teaching reading, writbg, and arith- 
metic, which she liberally endowed. She also erected 
and endoifed at StrathfiUan, on the estate of Lord 
Breadalbane, — and her executrix, by her desire, erected 
at Hotwells, near Bristol, a neat and commodious 
ohapeL Aware of the importance of attending to the 


preparaticni of young men for the work of the nunislrjr^ 
she generously encouraged that important object ; as- 
sisted many poor congregations in paying the salaries 
ai their ministers, and in otherwise supporting religioiis 
worship. For such benevolent actions, the worldly and 
irreligious branded her with the name of Methodist, 
and endeavored to represent her as a wild enthuaast ; 
but such opposition to her principles enabled her pa- 
tiently to endure, and through evil and good report, to 
pursue her work of faith and labor of love. She was 
attached to the principles of the Church of England, 
but more highly approved of the preachers, and mode 
of worship belonging to, and adopted by, the Countess 
of Huntingdon. Her incessant and varied occupations 
appear to have injured her health ; and she had scarce- 
ly attained to years of maturity, when the world and 
the church were deprived of this friend to humanity 
and religion. Her temper was warm, and she some- 
times appeared to entertain too high an opinion of her 
own importance, but her virtues and graces were so 
pre-eminent, that her imperfections were unobserved 
or forgotten. Though her health declined, her activity 
and usefulness were unabated, till on the I7th of July, 
1786, she was summoned to receive that reward, which 
on every diligent and faithful servant, Qod has prom- 
ised to bestow. She bequeathed by her will £5000 
for the education of young men for the ministry in 
England ; £5000 to the society in Scotland, for the 
propagation of Christian knowledge, and the greatest 
part of the residue of her property to charitable and 
pious purposes. 


Edwabd Dukcak Jaokbok was descended fitsm a yerjr 
respectable family. He appears from bis infancy to 
bare been of an inqnisitiye, reasoning, and solid tnm. 
Wbile yet a litUe cbild, be was impressed witb vener- 
ation for tbe Deity, and attachment to his worsbip. 
At a very early age, be constantly attended Divine 
service twice a day, at St. George's Cburcb in tbe 
Borougb, taking a prayer-book witb bim, and conduct- 
ing bimself as orderly as if attained to mature age and 
understanding. At four years old, be went oae Sacra- 
ment Sabbatb by bimself ; but instead of leaving witb 
tbe congregation, be remained witb tbe communicants, 
to tbe no small alarm of bis mother, who, making in- 
effectual inquiry for bim, concluded be was stolen. 
From this fear she was relieved by bis return witb the 
beadle, who stated, that at tbe earnest solicitation of 
4he child, tbe minister was prevailed on to allow him 
to be present ; that be went to tbe table witb tbe com- 
municants ; and kneeling witb them, partook of the 
bread ; but was omitted in the banding of the wine ; 
*' because," said little Jackson to bis mother, " by being 
so small, I was overlooked by tbe cleigyman." 

At this period, be was accustomed to biing home 
and ^repeat the text, and parts of tbe discourse ; and 
would be very frequent and fervent in private prayer. 
Before he was six years old, he gave a very strildng, 
though child-like, evidence of his conviction of the om* 


niscience of God. Plapug in a field, he lost one of lih 
sboe-buckles, whicli, being sflver, distressed him mneh ; 
at which, he immedia^elj retired to a comer of the 
field, and kneeling down, prayed to God with great 
earnestness, that he might be directed to it About 
the Same lime, he had also convictions of sin, and rea- 
soned much about the plan of salvation. His serious 
inquiries and impressions, cherished by a pious parent, 
excited the fond hope of seeing another 'fimothy, fear- 
ing God from his youth ; but the apostolic remark was 
soon verified, ** Evil communications corrupt good mwi- 
ncrs." Mingling with wicked boys and profane work- 
men, he lost his youthful piety, frequently broke the 
Sabbath, attended the theatre, and delighted in vain 
and sinful amusements. Thus, the plant, which prom- 
ised to be so fair and fruitful, soon began to shed its 
&ding leaves. Twice, during this period, he was won- 
derfully rescued from a watery grave ; but these de- 
liverances, and other innumerable mercies, left no de- 
vout or lasting impression upon his mind. At length, 
ia his sixteenth year, as he was pursuing his pleasures 
one Lord's day, seeing the people go into church, where 
the Rev. Mr. Foster was preaching, he went in with 
them, and was seriously afifected by the discourse. 
This happily proved the beginning of a work of recov- 
ering grace. Contmuiag his attendance upon the or- 
dinances of religion, he was brought to feel his guilty 
aud perishing state, and led humbly to seek salvation 
through the atonement made by our Redeemer. Old 
things now passed away, and in Christ Jesus he be- 


oame a new oreatnie. He was soon afterward direct- 
ed to the acquaintance of a ''mother in IsraeV whose 
heart and house were open to the people of God. To 
her he frequently resorted, and derired much benefit 
from her judidous counsels. On one of these occasioDg» 
she insisted upon his praying with her. The good old 
lady next persuaded him to engage in a select com- 
pany, who assembled at her house for prayer and ex- 
hortation. With this society he met constantly, some- 
times praying, but never attempting to speak, till one 
evening, when, bemg disappointed of their speaker, the 
venerable matron fixed upon Mr. Jackson to supply 
the lack of service. A call so public and unexpected 
overwhelmed him for a time ; but all waiting in silence, 
and every eye bemg fixed upon him, he felt the at- 
tempt a duly, and entreating the Lord for assistance, 
he addressed them in such a way as left no hesitaticm 
on the mmd of any present respecting his fitness for 
the work of the ministry. He was now about eighteen, 
and contmued to preach in London and its environs 
till the expiration of his apprenticeship. He afterward 
visited Worcester, Bristol, and oiher places, in all of 
which his labors have been successful ; and November 
9th, 1793, he was ordained to the pastoral office at 
Warminster in Wiltshire, being then in the 24th year 
of his age. The church and congregation increased 
under his care ; but his studies, labors, and trials, im- 
paired his constitution, and in June, 1803, he was seised 
with dizriness and faintings, and ob%ed, though with 
great reluctance, to lay aside his beloved work He 


fingered for several months in a state of painful debil- 
ity, which, in September, was succeeded by vomiting 
and convulsions, making it evident that death was at 

One of his friends, asking him in that solemn hour 
what were his views of the Gospel, he answered — 

** Finn as the eaiih Thy Goflpel studs, 
My Lord, my hope, my trust ; 
If I am fomid in Jesa's hands, 
My soul oan ne'er be lost.** 

The grief of his beloved and sorrowing partner much 
a^tated his mind : he could only say, as she was car- 
ried out of his room, " My dear Mary, I commit you to 
the care of a covenant God." To a relative he said, 
** I have always loved you ; be kind to my wife and 
children. Good night — good night forever !" One of 
his deacons, mquiring if he preferred any text from 
which his death might be improved to his people, he 
said — " No ;" but pausing a moment, added — " except 
that which has been my living doctrine, and is now my 
dying hope : ' It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all 
acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to 
save sinners, of whom I am chief ;' give my love to the 
Church, and say that I wish them a better and more 
faithful pastor." 

Thus full of faith, humility, patience, and love, en- 
tered into the presence of his Lord. 



Robert was the youngest child of George Bloomfield, a 
tailor, at Honington. His father died when he was an 
infant under a year old. His mother was a school- 
mistress, and instructed her own children with the 
others. He thus learned to read as soon as he learned 
to speak. Though the mother was left a widow with 
six small children, yet, with the help of friends, she 
managed to give each of them a little schooling. 

Bohert was accordingly sent to Mr. Rodwell, ci Iz- 
worth, to he improved in writing ; hut he did not go 
to that school more than two or three months, nor was 
ever sent to any other: his mother again marrying 
when Rohert was about seven years old. By her 
second husband, John Glover, she had another family. 

When Robert was not above eleven years old, the 
late Mr. W. Austm, of Sapiston, took him. And 
though it is customary for farmers to pay such boys 
only one and sixpence per week, yet he generously 
took him mto the house. This relieved his mother of 
any other expeitee, than only of finding him a few things 
to wear, and this was more than she well knew how to 
do. She wrote, therefore, Mr. G. Bloomfield continues^ 
to me and my brother Nat (then m London), to assist 
her — mentioning that he, Robert, was so small of his 
age, that Mr. Austin ssdd, "he was not likely to get 
his living by hard labor." 

Mr. G. Bloomfield, on this, informed his mother that 


if she would let him take the boy with him, he would 
take him and teach him to make shoes, and Nat prom- 
ised to clothe him. The mother, upon this offer, took 
coach and came to London to Mr. G. Bloomfield, with 
the boy, for she said, '' she never should have been 
happy if she had not put him herself into his hands.'* 
She charged me, he adds, '*a8 I valued a motker*s 
hlemng, to watch aver him, to set good examples before 
him, and never to forget that he had lost his father J* 
I religiously confine myself to Mr. G. Bloomfield's own 
words, and think I should wrong all the parties con- 
cerned, if, in mentioning this pathetic and successful 
admonition, I were to use any other. 

It was while working at his trade as a shoemaker, 
and engaged in running errands for the other work- 
men, that the youth commenced composing poetry. 
Afi he had not the opportunity of using writing imple- 
ments, and probably was often imable to procure them, 
his method was to compose mentally, and retain the 
verses in his memory until a favorable opportunity oc- 
curred for committing them to paper. His first effu- 
sions were sent off anonymously to the weekly news- 
paper which his brother and the other workmen took 
in. Great must have been the joy of the boy, to find 
the little poems thus sent, obtained insertion in '' the 
Poet's Comer " of the paper. At first, he had not 
courage to own himself the author, but was both elated 
and amused at the praises he heard bestowed on the 
anonymous lines, by the shoemakers. 

The fint poem that brought him into note, was " The 


Parmer's B07/' wMch he composed in the mamier 
abore related, putting down long portions of the poem 
at &Yorable interrab of his daily toiL The beautj of 
this poem, its exqmsite descriptions of comrtry sceneiy; 
manners, pmisnits, and objects, soon rendered it a £1* 
Yorite, and filoomfield b^^an to obtain celebrity, which 
he afterward mcreased by the pnblication of his '^ W3d 
Flowere," and " Rmral Tales/* 

Through life he was a poor man, but his genias ob- 
tained him many devoted admirers ; and his name will 
ever rank high amid the imedncated poets of ^igland. 
To the close of his life, his mother's name never passed 
his lips without elicitmg sentiments of affection and 
rererenee for her memory. 


Hs says — "I was bom in London, July 24th, 1726. 
My parents, though not wealthy, were respectable. 
My father was many years master of a ship in the 
Mediterranean trade. My mother was a Dissenter, a 
pious woman, and a member of the late Dr. Jennings' 
church. She was of a weak, consimiptiye habit ; loved 
retirement ; and as I was her only child, she made it 
the chief business and pleasure of her life to instmot 
me, and bring me up ' in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord.' I have been told that from my birth 
she had, in her mind, devoted me to the ministry ; and 


tiiat had she lived tOl I was of a proper age, I was to 
hare been sent to St. Andrew's, m Scotland, to be ed- 
ucated. But the Lord had appdnted otherwise. My 
mother died before I was seven yean of age. I was 
rather of a sedentary tnm, not acttve and playful, aa 
boys commonly are, but seemed as willing to kam, 
aa my mother was to teach me. When I was four 
years old, I could read (hard words excepted) aa well 
aa I can now ; and could Hkewise repeat the answers 
to the questions in the ' Assembly's Shorter Catechism,' 
with the proofs ; and all Dr. Watts' smaller catechisms, 
with lus children's hymns." His excellent mother 
likewise stored his memory with whole chapters and 
smaller portions of Scripture, and often commended 
him, with many prayers and tears, to God. 

After her death, these hopeful beginnings were ap- 
parently lost. His father was too stem, and kept hhn 
in a state of fear and bondage. His distanca and se- 
yerity greatly lessened his parental influence, and pow- 
erfully inclined the youth to break the yoke of eailf 
discipline, and to forsake the ways of God. During 
this period of his life, up to his fifteenth year, he was 
often visited by religious convictions ; and being, from 
a chfld, fond of reading, he met with " Bennet's Chiis- 
tian Oratory," and though he understood little of it, the 
coarse of life it recommended appeared very desirable. 
He therefore began to pray, to read the Scriptures, to 
kaep a diary, and thought himself religious ; but soon 
became weary of it, and gave it up. He then leaned 
to cuise and blaspheme, and when oat of the view of 

90 Bxy. jomr jnewToir axd bib mothxb. 

Ub taiher and step-mother, ran greedily on in the paAa 
«f iniquity. Being exposed at times to imminent dan- 
ger, he trembled at the idea of appearing in his goiUy 
state before a just and holy God ; and often indulged 
remorse, made vows of obedience, and changed his 
outward conduct ; but returning temptations overcame 
him again and again. At length being impressed, and 
obliged to serve oa board a man-of-war, he fell into 
evil company, and particularly into the society of one 
who was an expert, a zealous, and plausible infidel. 
By objections and arguments, young Newton's deprav- 
ed heart was soon gained. He plunged into infideliiy 
with all his spirit ; and, like an unwary sailor who quits 
the harbor just before a rising storm, the hopes and 
comforts of the Gospel were renoimced at the very 
time when every other comfort was about to fail. This 
prodigal son now entered on a scene of guilt, danger, 
and misery which has seldom been exceeded ; but a 
kind Providence visibly watched over him, and at length 
it pleased God to make him a vessel of his mercy, and 
a minister of his grace. March 21st, 1748, the ship 
in which hQ was returning to England being in the 
most imminent danger, a deep and abiding impression 
was made upon his mind. '* On that day," to use his 
own words, ** the Lord sent from on high and deliver- 
ed me out of deep waters. I continued at the pump 
from three in the morning till near noon, and then I 
oould do no more. I went and lay down upon my 
bed, uncertain, and almost indifferent, whether I should 
rise Bgmi, In an hour's time I was called ; and not 


being able to pump, I went to the helm, and steered 
the ship till midnight, excepting a small interval for 
refreshment. I had here leisure and conyenient op- 
portunity for reflection. I began to think of my former 
religious professions ; the extraordinary turns of tny 
life ; the calls, warnings, and deliverances I had met 
with ; the licentious course of my conversation ; par- 
ticularly my unparalleled effrontery in making the 
Gospel history the constant subject of profane ridicule. 
I thought there never was, or could be, such a sinner 
aa myself; and then comparing the advantages I had 
broken through, I concluded, at first, that my sins were 
too great to be forgiven. The Scripture, likewise, 
seemed to say the same ; for I had formerly been well 
acquainted with the Bible, and many passages, upon 
tliis occasion, returned upon my memory ; particularly 
those awful passages — Proverbs i. 24-31 ; Hebrews 
vi. 4-6 ; 2 Peter ii. 20 ; which seemed .so exactly to suit 
my case and character, as to bring with them a pre- 
sumptive proof of a Divine original. When I saw, be- 
yond all probal^ility, that there was still hope of respite, 
and heard, about six in the evening, that the ship was 
freed from water, there arose a gleam of hope. I 
thought I saw the hand of God displayed in our favor. 
I began to fHray ; I could not utter the prayer of faith ; 
I could not draw near to a reconciled God, and call 
him * Father ;' my prayer was like the cry of the ra- 
vens, which yet the Lord does not disdtdn to hear. I 
now began to think of that Jesus whom I had so often 
derided ; I recollected the particulars of his life, and 

n Bvr. jomr nwroir ahd bib mothuu 

of his death ; a death for ans not his own, bcit» as I 
remembered, for the sake of those who, in their dk- 
tresB, should put their trust in him. One of the first 
helps I received, in consequence of a determination to 
examine the New Testament more carefolly, was from 
Luke xL 13, ' If ye then being evil, know how to give 
good gifts unto, your children ; how much more shall 
your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them 
that ask Hun ?' Here I found a spirit spoken of who 
was to be communicated to those who ask it. Upon 
this I reasoned thus — ^if this book be true, the promise 
in this passage must be true likewise. I have need rf 
that veiy Spirit, by which the whole was written, to 
understand it aright. He has engaged here to give 
that Spirit to those who ask ; I must, therefore, pray 
for it ; and, if it be of God, he will make good his 
own word. My purposes were strengthened by John 
m 17." 

Their danger of shipwreck was not yet passed, but 
rather became more imminent than before. However, 
at a time when they were ready to give up all for lost, 
and despair appeared in eveiy countenance, they began 
to conceive hope from the winds shifting to the desu^ 
point, so as best to suit that broken part of the ship, 
which must be kept out of the water, and so gently to 
blow as their few remaining sails could bear. 

On the 19th of April, they anchored in Lough 
SwiUy, Ireland. When they came into this port, their 
very last victuals were boiling in the pot, and before 
they had been there two hours, the wind — which seem* 


ed to Iiaye been providentially restrained till they were 
in a place of safety, — began> to blow with great vio- 
lence ; so that, if they had continued at sea that night, 
they must, in all human estimation, have gone to the 
bottom. "About this time," says Mr. Newton, "I 
began to know that there is a God who hears and 
answers prayers." Speaking of the ship m which he 
lately sailed, he says, — " There were no persons on 
board to whom I could open myself with freedom 
concerning the state of my soul ; none from whom I 
could ask advice. As to books, I had a New Testa- 
ment, Stanhope's Thomas-a-Eempis, and a volume of 
Bishop Beveridge's Sermons, one of which, upon our 
Lord's passion, afifected me much. In perusing the 
New Testament, I was struck with several passages, 
particularly that of the fig-tree, Luke ziii. ; the case of 
Paul, 1 Timothy i. ; but above all, that of the prodi- 
gal, Luke XV. I thought that it had never been so 
nearly exemplified as by myself; and then the good- 
ness of the father in receiving, nay, in running to meet 
such a son, and this intended only to illustrate the 
Lord's goodness to returning simiers ! Such reflec- 
tions gaining upon me, I ccmtinued much in prayer. 
Outward circumstances helped, in this place, to make 
me still more serious and earnest in crying to Him 
who alone could relieve me ; and sometimes I thought 
I could be content to die, even for want of food, so I 
might but die a believer." 

The spiritual change, thus happily begun, was evi- 
dently from above. Mr. Newton became an exemplary 


and devoted Christian, and was ordained b^ the Bishop 
of lincoUi, in 1764. For more than fort]r years he 
approved himself a faithful, judicious, and affectionate 
minister of Christ. The benevolence of his disposition, 
and the piety of his heart, will appear from his own 
words, — " I see in this world two heaps, of human hap- 
piness and misery : now, if I can take but the smallest 
bit from one heap and add to the other, I carry a point. 
If, as I go home, a child has dropped a halfpenny, 
and if, by giving it another, I can wipe away its tears, 
I feel I have done somethmg. * J should be glad, 
indeed, to do greater things, but I will not neglect 
this. When I hear a knock at my study door, I hear 
a message from God. It may be a lesson of instruc- 
tion; perhaps, a lesson of patience; but since it is 
SU message, it must be interesting.'* His house was 
open to Christians of all ranks and denominations. 
Here, like a father among his children, he used to en- 
tertdn, encourage, and instruct his friends ; especially 
younger ministers, or candidates for the ministry. 
Here, also, the poor, the afficted, and the tempted 
found an asylum and a sympathy, which they could 
scarcely find in an equal degree anywhere besides. 
Not having any children of his own, he had no oppor- 
tunity of discharging the duties of a parent ; but he 
adopted two nieces into his family, toward whom he 
displayed the wisdom and affection of a pious father ; 
while they, m return, loved and reverenced hun as 
My pen would still linger wlule portraying a char* 


acter so venerable and interestmg ; but I must forbear. 
I therefore only add, that Mr. Newton died in peace^ 
December 21st, 1807, in the eighty-second year of bis 
age. Behold, in his example, the efficacy cf Chrisiittn 
instruction and prayer, even at a very early period. 
His pious mother died, before he was seven years of 
age. Yet, she sowed " precious seed," with weeping 
and supplication, in the mind of her son, which, though 
it appeared to be choked for a time, brought forth at 
length a rich and valuable harvest. She devoted bim, 
in bumility and faiths to the ministry ; and though for 
ft season he seemed of all men most unlikely and unfit 
for the sacred office, yet God by his grace prepared 
him for it, made him a " burning and a shining light,'' 
and enabled him successfully to build up the faith 
which once he labored to destroy. Perhaps he might 
never have wandered into the paths of irreligion, had 
his father been pious, judicious, tender, and patieiit, 
like his mother. It is highly important that both pa- 
rents should unite in the spiritual care of their chil- 
dren ; that they may see their comfort and usefulness 
through life, and at last, present them with joy befpre 
the God and Father of all. 

Shb writes thus concerning her youth — " Having had 
a pious education, it taught me to reverence the Sab- 
bath, and though it could not give me a love to the 


dajy yet it led me to read books that were suitable to 
the day ; which was one of the means the Lord made 
use of to set me thinkmg abont the concerns of my im« 
mortal soul. I used to inquire of myself, when it was 
that God would take an account of the actions of a 
chOd, and hoped that I was not old enough ; but still, 
I rather thought or feared I was. I read the Scrip- 
tures, not so much because I understood them, as be- 
cause I thought there might come a time when I 
should ; and then, it would be of use to me to be ac- 
quamted with them." 

These beginmngs of serious reflection and desire 
led, through grace, to her conversion and eminent piety. 
She entered into the marriage state in April, 1786, and 
in August, 1789, was left a bereaved widow with three 
children. Divine grace supported her under the loss 
of a pious and amiable husband. On this affecting oc- 
casion, she says, '' Never did I see the realities of the 
invisible world so much as in the trymg moments I 
have lately experienced. I felt no tremor at deposit- 
ing the remains of my dear departed husband, be- 
cause I believe that those who sleep in Jesus, will 
God bring with him ; and in the meantime he is infi- 
nitely happier in the presence of the ever adorable 
Jesus, than I, or all the world be«des, could have 
made him ; and it is but a little while, and then I shall 
be where he is, and we shall join in nobler worship 
than we ever have done here below. ' I have been think- 
ing of the important chai^ the Lord hath committed to 
me m respect to the children, and these words came to 


mj mind, * Be fidUifiil over a few things, and I iriU 
make thee ruler over many things.* " 

After this, Mrs. Chase's grand concern was to tndn 
up her children in the fear of God ; and takmg a few 
young ladies to educate with them, she endeayored to' 
promote their spiritual and eternal welfare. In the 
spring of 1798, her health rapidly declined, so that 
death seemed to be drawing near. On the lOth ci 
March she desired that she might see her children and 
all her pupils together, in order to give them her last 
advice. When they were come into her room, she ad- 
dressed them in the most affectionate manner — " My 
dear children, I have sent for you to talk to you, as I 
have not long to be with you. While I was able, it 
was my greatest delight to instruct you, particularly in 
the things of God ; and I have always loved you with 
the tenderness of a mother. I earnestly entreat you, 
my dear children, to seek an interest in Jesus. Search 
the Scriptures, for they testify of him :" with man to 
the same purpose. Seeing them in tears, she said, 
** God bless you all, my dears ; and do not grieve. 
Gome now, my dear children, and kiss me for the last 
time." On the Sabbath, bemg told that her daughter 
Eliza had repeated those words, " It is the Lord, let 
him do what seemeth him good," she expressed great 
delight that the Lord had subdued her will to his will ; 
as the dear child had previously expressed herself, al- 
most in anger, that the Lord would not hear her pray- 
en and restore her dear mamma. * 

On Monday, she sppke again to her beloved childreDi 

118 lOa. 0BA8B AKD HBB CnHSBSV. 

taBbg ttien^she hoped to have lived to see them gitnr 
up in the fear of God; but the L(N*d had chofien greater 
happiness for her. She earnestly entreated tiiem to 
seek Jesus Christ, for salvation. She told them, that 
from a child, the Scriptures had been her delight. She 
said the salvation of their souls had always lain near 
her heart. When they wept, she begged them not to 
grieve too much, for she should soon be in glory ; and 
tf they loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusted in him 
fiHT salvation, they should all meet again before hia 
throne. She requested them to look upon those rela- 
tions as parents to whose affection and care she had 
entousted them, and to obey them as such, — to behave 
toward them as they had done to her. Then, turning 
to her son, she said — *' Remember the advice of Sol- 
omon : ' My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou 

On Tuesday evening she gave them her last bless- 
ing, sajring to each one of them, in a most solemn and 
affectionate manner — ** God the Father, God the Son, 
and God the Holy Ghost, bless you !" After the ohil- 
dr^i were gone to bed, she begged her sisters to give 
her up to God in prayer. A few hours before her de- 
parture, Mr. P prayed with her. On his taking 

leave, she desbed her love to Mrs. P ^ wishing 

them both as happy as she then was ; for no greater 
happiness could she wish them here bek>w. To s(mie 
Christian friends who called shortly after, she said — 
*' It is comfortable dying with Christ." She often re- 
pealed, ''I long to be with him." Her last words 

« AMD mm u&mm. M 

^wro ^I am going liOBie," w^n, lieaviag a goriie 
^ilfikf ker ifiah was aoconidi&lied, and ihe f oimd ^tr* 
actf beCore the Heavadiy thraae. 


Mbb. BoBDiaoH was bom at Dundee, in Scotland, An* 
gaai 27tii, 1 <F49. In the aeiwnth year of her age, tiie 
iMtaructwna of her pimia mother, and the good cotma^i 
fd a Ghristiaii teend, kd her aerioaflly to inqnira, 
** What must I do U> be saved ?" In reading the aar 
ored SGrq>tures, e^>eQiafi7 those parte of them which 
deseribe the aufferings of Christ, she was deeply af- 
faeted. When she was twelve years <^ age, she became 
more decided in f&vor of religion, and resolved never%o 
Nst until she found that peace of God "which pasa- 
eth all understanding." Satan now perplexed her mind 
with doubts, and brought her into great distress. Had 
she oonsulted her minister, or some pious and judicious 
friend, she might have obtained an early deliverance. 
In this unhappy state she continued eighteen months, 
tin at length she opened her mind to her moM«r. Anz* 
ions to see her daughter brought into the liberty of ^ 
Cloapel, this excellent parent united with a few seriooa 
penoBS in fervent pmyer to God, and never ceased to 
faitaeede with him in her behalf till the dark cloud was 
and divine fight began to shine upon hut 
t l^ihe Rer. Wm. Tomo. 



mind. By a powerful application of the words cS tfaa 
prophet, "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, 
call ye upon him while he is near/' she was much eor 
couraged to perserere in prayer. Her soul was soon 
filled with jby and peace in believing, and she saw and 
felt that Christ was mighty to sare. For some yean 
after this, she went on her way rejoicing ; but an un- 
guarded step, which she took in forming a matrimonial 
engagement, was a source of grief to her parents, and 
brought darkness and condemnation upon her own 
mind. When adverting to this circumstance in future 
life, ^he often expressed her deep r^;ret. In the year 
1774, she accompanied her husband, who was in the 
army, to America, and on June 4th, landed safe at 
Boston. The prayers and conversations of a black 
man were made a blessing to her, and she experienced 
a revival of religion in her soul. " At length," she 
says, " the fatal day of battle arrived. Then it was 
that I began tp think of my disobedience to my pa- 
rents, and of my departure from God. A succession 
of domestic afflictions added to my distress. In the 
course of one week, my two children were taken ill 
and died." At length she received the heart-rending 
news that her husband was no more — he fell in the 
contest. On this mournful occasion, she writes — '' See- 
ing myself a widow, with a fatherless child, m a strange 
country, I was ready to abandon myself to despair. 
When the letter came to hand, I was on board a trans- 
port-ship, ready to sail for New York. We put to 
8e% and after six weeks of tremendous weather, during 


WUch I experienced many bardbships, I landed at thie 
place of my destination, on Christmas eve. That was 
ind^ an awful moment. My infant in my anns — 
not knowing an mdividual in the place — I knew not 
what to do: and yielding to a momentary despair of 
ever finding the peace of mind which I had lost, I 
came to the desperate resolution of leaping, with my 
elnld, into the ebbing tide/' This was a day of fear- 
M. extremity; but the wings of Froyidence were 
spread over this child of many prayers. Just when 
she was ready to give up all for lost, deliverance was 
st hand. A sentinel, who was walking on' the whaif, 
seeing she was in distress, went up to her, and caused 
her baggage to be taken, with herself and child, to a 
neighboring house, where she found an affectionate and 
comfortable reception. '' I was saved," she gratefully 
observes, " from temporal and eternal ruin. All my 
wants were amply supplied. Finding my health much 
impaired, I began to feel a dread of death ; this led 
me to fervent prayer, and I spent whole nights in 
wrestling with God, beseeching him once more to cause 
his face to shine upon me : yet I found no rest to my 
troubled conscience. On the 1st of August, 1777, we 
were visited with an awful thunder-storm, at four 
o'clock in the afternoon : a ship-of-war blew up in the 
loads, and "much damage was done in the city. My 
child, at that instant, waking out of his sleep, was seized 
with convulsions, and expired on the following day, at 
the same hour. 0, what I felt, when I considered that 
God had taken the innocent and spared the guilty 1" 


After passiDg tbrough varioos and trying seenMy atil 
ezperienong many proofs <^ Ahniglity eare and |»i>- 
tectian, Mrs. Robin8<xi, in tbe year 1782, bad an op- 
portunity of visiting her parents, who received h«r with 
joy, exclaiming, '' The dead is aMve, the lost is found/' 
Her moth^ said, '' Now my prayer is answered in yoiv 
behalf;" and five weelos after, she departed in peae« 
and in the triumph of faith. Her last words to her 
daughter were, ** I have counseled you, I have prayed 
for you, I have set you the best example I could ; and 
now, if you are not found at the right haad of God al 
the last day, I shall be a witness against you." This 
dying charge made a deep impresskm on the mind of 
Mrs. Robinscn, which she never lost. 

On May 15th, 1795, she arrived in Gu^nsey. Here, 
after much d^beration, she united herself to the Meth- 
odists ; and for twenty-nine years, she was deservedly 
revered and loved, as a ** mother in IsraeL" Many 
who were unconnected with the society, looked up to 
her with great respect, and continued to visit her for 
the benefit of her reli^ous conversation and spiritual 
advice, as long as her strength permitted her to see 
ihem. She was, besides, the faithful and affectionale 
leader of three large classes, watching orer her mem- 
bers as one who must give an account. Her afflietiraia 
were heavy for several months before her death ; yel 
no expression was ever heard to escape her lips ooA- 
tiary to the most perfect resignation. On one occasioB 
die said, ** My sufferings are very great, but I am in 
good hands, and have no anxiety as to the issue ; aB 

OBBBinr Aim ms mothbb. 101 

tUs must end well." At another time,*" I am wiHing 
that mj heavenly Father should heat this famace as 
hot» and keep me in it as long as he pleaseth : I would 
not have my own will — His will be done." A little 
b^ie her d^ath she said, '' In the midst of this ex* 
treme weakness and pain, I am favored with some most 
precious intimations of my heavenly Father's love. 
Heaven is worth suffering for — ^it is worth dying for." 
She died in the enjoyment of that perfect love which 
eastetk out fear. The last words she was 'heaxd 
to utter were — "I am happy: I wish all the wodd 
fdt as I do." She was released from mortalitjr Jan- 
uary 16th, 1825. 


Tbb history of modem times fuinishes few names more 
illustrious in the annals of benevolence and philanthro- 
py, than that of John Frederic Oberlin. This pious and 
admirable man was a native of Strasbourg, and wis 
distinguished from his earliest years for the possessm 
of a generous, tender, and conscientious spirit. While 
a very young man, he devoted himself to God, was en- 
gaged in the work of the ministry among the Protest- 
ants of the north-western districts of France, and re- 
edved the pastoral charge of the people residing in a 
wild, banen, rocky district — called the Ban de la 
Boehe. This charge called for the exercise ci un«* 
wearied self-denial, and untiring benevolence. His 


people, when he first labored among them, were rude^ 
ignorant, and miserable. OberKn, for their sakes, and 
in performance of his Christian duties, gave up aQ pros- 
pects of a more elevated station, and set himself to 
benefit them by giving them instruction in various use- 
ful pursuits, whDe their spiritual and mental traimng 
was the object ci his continued solicitude. Ardently 
devoting himself to this work of bettering the condition 
of his people, he made a road, and constructed a bridge 
that connected their bkak mountains and rocky valleys 
with the city of Strasbourg — by this means, increasing 
the traffic of the district. Besides this, he built schools, 
erected comfortable cottages, founded libraries, set up a 
printing-press, made extensive plantations, and by his 
agricultural skill, changed the appearance of the whole 
country, and introduced order, prosperity, intelligence, 
and piety, among a people as destitute, when he went 
to them, as the most savage tribes could possibly be. 
The whole of a long life he dedicated to this great work. 
The infant school system of instruction, now so general, 
owes its origin to Oberlin ; and the piety and apostolic 
simpHcity oi his character made him a model of excel- 
lence to all thoughtful minds. 

It is interesting to trace the home influences that 
contributed to develop so much worth, and his biog- 
raphers remark, that " To his pious and accomplished 
mother he often acknowledged himself indebted for 
his love of the things 'that are excellent,' and for the 
desires he subsequently felt of dedicating his talents 
and his poWers for the good of others. She was in- 


deed a truly admirable woman, and conscientbnsly en* 
deavored to bring up her children in ' the nurture and 
adminition of the Lord/ She was in the habit of as- 
sembling them together every evening, and of reading 
aloud some instructive book, whilst they sat around 
the table copying pictures, which thdr father had 
drawn for them ; and scarcely a night passed, but, 
when on the pdnt of separating, there was a general 
request, for ' one beautiful hymn from dear mamma,' 
with which she always complied. The hymn was fol- 
lowed by a prayer ; and thus their infant steps were 
conducted to Him who has said, * Suffer little children 
to come unto me.' " 

It was through the mstnmientality of this admirable 
mother, that during Oberlin's youth, he was savingly 
c<mverted to God. A celebrated preacher, named Dr. 
Lorentz, excited a great sensation in Strasbourg, by 
the ardent zeal with which he preached a crucified 
Saviour. Oberlin's mother, attracted by the general 
report, went to hear him, and was so much struck with 
the powerful manner m which he set forth the grand 
doctrines of redemption and remisson of sin, that she 
entreated her favorite son (John Frederic) to accom- 
pany her on the following Sunday. Being a student 
in the theological class at the University, and having 
been warned by his superiors not to go, it was with 
some reluctance that he suffered his mother to per- 
suade him to accompany her. In compliance with her 
urgent solicitations, he, however, at last acceded, and 
was so much delighted with the evangelical truths he 

1<MI MM. tBOurrov ahd sma osildbsk. 

heard preaohed, that he became a rq;ii]ar and diBgeiii 
attendant of the doctor's aermons, and this cmiBA- 
atance probably contributed to strengthen his religkMB 
impressions, and to confirm him in the resolution lie 
had made in childhood. 

The mother of Oberlin had the unspeaikable satisfieus- 
tion of beholding her son sdemnly dedicate himself to 
the service of God at the age of twenty ; a reward the 
. greatest thai maternal pety could receive. 


Knowing whom she had believed, and expecting to 
be soon with Him to behold his glory, she employed 
the remnant of her breath in praising hun, in praying 
for oihers, in instructing, admmiishing, and comforting 
her children and friends who were with her. ** My 
children," said she, '' I dearly love, but I am willing 
to leave them. I hope they will follow me to heaveni 
I have endeavOTed to recommend the best things, and 
can only lament that I have not set them a better ex- 
ample. But, if any infirmity or sin they have seen in 
me have proved a hinderance to them, I pray God to 
take the remembrance of it from their mmds, and en- 
able them to look to that perfect pattern, who has left 
us an example how we ought to walk." To her 
daughter she said, — " Study the Scriptures, not only 
as containing truths which are able to make you wise 


tmlo salvatioQ, which they do in the fullest maimer ; 
bat read them for rules of life, for history, for deserip- 
tion of characters, for geography, for eyerytluDg. One 
thing which gives history its excellence, is its authen- 
ticity : anotiier is ihe character of its author. Now> 
the Bible is infallibly true ; the Bible is the bodL of 
Ood. It not only instructs us in the knowledge c( 
God, oi ourselves, and of the way by which we may 
approach him with hope ; but m whatever is needful 
for us to know ; and it will both please and profit 
every person, who reads it with attention and prayer." 
A little while after, she charged her daughter, Maria, 
to tell her other children, " that living or dyings their 
mother loved them. You have been good and pleasant 
children to me, and I pray you, take the Apostle's 
advice — * Be ye kindly affectioned, one toward another ; 
be ye holy, harmless, undefiled.' My dear Maria> yoa 
have nursed me affectionately, and now you are called 
to an affecting scene, — a dying mother parting with a 
child she dearly loves. After I am gone, and you 
retire in secret to weep, perhaps your mother may be 
looking on : I charge you and your dear sisters, let not 
a thought enter your minds, that you have neglected 
anything that could have been done for me. You have 
all been kind : I have had evei^ attention shown me 
that could have been given ; the Lord bless you aU. 
Do not expect too much from each other, and then you 
will live in love." After a short silence, she said — 
''The mystery of the cross contains our all of good — our 
Bedeemer, our great deliverer, is our surety and oar 


peace. I liave no hope, no plea, but Lord, thou liast 
died. Ob ! Maria, he must be your salyation ; expect 
only to be saved through him." Next day, her other 
two daughters arrived. She said — ** My sweet Anne 
(I cannot say my dearest child, for you are all equally 
dear to me) — ^my precious Harriet, seek the God of 
your fathers : he is my support and my all ; my faith- 
ful God." Seeing them weep, she observed, " I love 
your tears ; they are. precious, because they are tears 
of affection ; but you may weep too much. Take care 
that you do not indulge excessive grief." After dis- 
coursing some time on redemption, she added — ** O, 
may the Holy Spirit impress these truths upon your 
hearts, my dear children ! Without his influence, aU 
is nothing. My mother," she continued, ** was a bless- 
ed woman, and I sometimes think she will be one of 
the first happy spirits to welcome me home. How I 
shall rejoice in a future day to present my children to 
her in glory ! My dear children, let no one cheat you 
out of immortality." It*was told her that one of her 
nieces was committing to memory Gambold's '' Mys- 
tery of Life," on which she gave a smile of approba- 
tion ; and turning to her children, entreated them to 
fill their minds with the good things which might be 
useful to them on a dying bed. Then, looking affec- 
tionately upon them, she said — ** My dear children, 
you see your dying parent bearing testimony to the 
truths of God." 
She expired without a struggle, March 12th, 1799. 


Kb8. Eliza Bbrrt, the wife of the Rev. Jos. Beny, 
some tune pastor of the DiBsenting church at Wannin- 
ater, was Uie youngest daughter of Rev. Thomas Grove, 
formerly of Woodbum, in the county of Bucks, who 
was one of the six students expelled from the Univer- 
sity of Oxford, for praying, reading, and expounding 
the Scriptures. 

Descended from a family of great respectability, she 
had been favored with a good education, and was not 
destitute of those elegant accomplishments which 
would have fitted her to shine in polite society. The 
event which was chiefly instrumental in her conversion 
was the pious conversation of an amiable brother-in- 
law, who, at the same time, and by the same means^ 
succeeded in producing a permanent impression upon 
the mind of her sister. She was married to Mr. Beny 
in the year 1804 ; and after a lingering illness, expired 
February 18th, 1812, in the 37th year of her age. 

Such are the few particulars which we have been 
able to gather of her history. But her character was 
of no ordinary stamp ; and it is for the sake of laying 
this before our readers, that we have introduced the 
present brief memoir. We are indebted for the^^fol- 
lowing interesting portrait of the Christian wife and 
mother to the pen of the Rev. Wm. Jay, of Bath, who 
preached a sermon on the occasion of her death, which 
has been printed. 


''The religion of this eaant," says Mr. Jaj, ''was 
not oeeasumal; it did not depend upon particular sea- 
sons, and exercises, and occurrences. She was in the 
fear of the Lord all the daj long, and acknowledged 
Him b all her ways. Ko one loved the habitation of 
€k)d's house more than she did, hut her devotion wis 
not confined to it. It was not roving and hearing re- 
ligion. It appeared in public, but it lived in private. 
It was closet aiid famB j religion. It was not a thing 
separable from her, and which was sometimes assum* 
ed, and sometimes laid aside ; but it was a principle 
wrought into all her feelings, habits, and actions. Let 
me adduce a partial but interesting illustration. 

"After the month of November, 1811, she scarcely 
ever went out. Her Sabbath-day evenings were em- 
ployed in reading the Scriptures, and holding familiar 
dialogues with her three babes. After hearing them 
repeat a short prayer, and one of Watts' little hymns 
for children, she seated them each in a separate chair, 
while, with maternal simplicity and endearment, she 
heard and answered their questions and proposed her 
Cfwn. Dismissing the younger two to rest, the eldest^ 
then six years old, was retained up a little longer. 
With him, her constant Sabbath-day evening custom 
wa9 to pray. At these periods she forgot herself in 
endeavoring to interest her boy. She would begin to 
pray for his father, who, at that precise period, was 
preaching. Then she would pray for her children, 
^e by one. Afta mimtiaiiing thdr names, she eifthar 
implored forgiveness for foibles, or expressed her grat- 


itnde that the ' great God had made them such good 
dkildren.' Takii^ this boy one day into the parlor 
irihere she usually performed these exercises, his father 
asked him, ' if his dear mother did not sometimes kneel 
with him and pray V With eyes instantly filled with 
tettm, the litUe disciple artlessly replied, ' Yes, father, 
mother used to kneel at that chair, and hold my hand, 
Bfid pray for father that he may do gqod, and for me» 
and for Henry, and for little Mairy, and for all of us.' 

** O, ye mothers, sanctify your tenderness, and yonur 
influence I How much depends upon your gentle and 
early endeayors! How often you may sow the seed, 
which, after a lapse of time, shall reyive and flourish, 
thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold*! How often has a 
disobedient son been reclaimed by the rememl»ranee 
of the eloquent tears of her who bore him, or the preft- 
sme (^ her trembling hand, when delivering her dying 
charge I What did Mr. Cecil and Mr. Newton owe tet 
the lessons their mothers had taught them ? What did 
Timothy owe to his grandmother, Lois, and his mother, 
Eunice? What did Samuel owe to Hannah? We 
know little of Jesse ; but how often and tenderly does 
David, in his devotions, refer to his mother, and plead 
the relation in which he had the honor and happiness 
of standing to her — ' Save the son of thine handmaid,* 
'Truly I am thy servant, and son of thine handmaid J 

** * I think,' said this deceased mother, about a fort- 
XKJght before her death, ' I think, in looking back on 
afi these seasons, my sweetest exercises were with ny 
dear boy on the Sabbath evenings. The house was 


still ; my babes were in bed ; my husband was labor-^ 
ing for God in the sanctuary ; everything aided and 
mspired devotion: I think my dear boy will never 
forget some of these seasons apy more than myself. 
O; my happy seasons with my infant son !' 

''•Her attention to order and regularity was siiq^ar. 
Life was with her a system, and everything in it had 
its due time and importance. Hence she knew nothing 
of that hurry and fretfulness occasioned by omission 
and confusion. She, in her last illness, looked forward, 
and arranged everything, however minute. On giving 
up her books as secretary, a few weeks before she died, * 
her countenance was a true index of her mind. When 
the ladies were gone^she exclaimed — ' Blessed be God 
for this. I should not have liked my husband or my 
children to have been reproached with inaccurate ac- 
counts. Above aU, I should have been sorry for the 
cause of religion to suffer.' 

** During her illness, she had frequently requested 
Christian friends to pray that she might have an easy 
dismissal. Her wish was granted. She seemed free 
from pain. Her last broken, and almost inarticulate 
accents were, 'Valley — shadow — home — Jesua — 
peace.' A few minutes before eight, her head gently 
dropped on one side of her pillow, and her last pulse 
was felt by the hand of her anguished husband. 

" The deceased was only a private character, it is true ; 
but she was a decided character : she was a constant 
character : she was an amiable character : she was an 
inoffensive character : ^e was a benevolent character. 


She neither fired nor died to herself. And, 'he that 
in these things servetb Christ, is acceptable to Qod, 
and approved of men.' " 


Oeoroe Washington was bom in Westmoreland 
County, Virginia, on the 22d February, 1732. He was 
the eldest son, by a second marriage, of Augustine 
Washington, a gentleman of large property, the de- 
scendant of John Washington, an Englishman, who 
bad emigrated to America during the government of 
Oliver Cromwell. The name of Washington's mother 
was Mary Ball. Her husband dying suddenly in the 
year 1743, the charge of educating a large family, con- 
sisting of two surviving sons of her husband by his 
former wife, and five surviving children of her own, de- 
volved upon her. George Washington was not quite 
eleven years of age at the time of his father's death. 

Although cut off in the prime of life, Augustine 
Washington left all his children well provided for. 
Lawrence, the eldest, was left an estate of twenty-five 
hundred acres, besides shares in iron works in Maryland 
and Virginia ; Augustiife, who was next oldest, mherited 
an estate in Westmoreland ; George inherited the house 
and lands in Stafford County, where his father resided 
at the time of his death ; his three younger brothers had 
each a plantation of six or seven hundred acres assign- 
ed him ; and provision was otherwise made for the sb- 


tor* By the will of her husband, Mn. Washmgton 
waa entrusted with the sole management of the prop- 
erty of her five children, until they should respectively 
come of age. Being a woman of singular prudence 
and strength of character, she fulfilled this important 
charge with great success. She lived to see her eldest 
son at the height of his greatness. 

His biographers have said — '' To the care of his ex* 
oellent and pioiu mother, he was indebted for that ed- 
ucation and those sentiments of hercMsm, and principles 
of virtue and honor, which, acting on a happy dispo- 
sition and a lofty genius, and aid^d by a favorable con- . 
currence of circumstances, raised him to the summit 
of greatness and glory. Washington continued at 
school until his fifteenth year, when a sort of crisb 
took place in his history, which brings his mother's 
character very affectingly b^ore us. 

** His elder brother, Lawr^ice^ observing a military 
turn in George, obtained a commission for him as a 
midshipman in the British navy, thinkingby this means 
to advance his interests. It appears that the youth 
himself was pleased with the prospect, and prepared 
with alacrity to enter into that profession. The con- 
sent of his fond and faithful mother had to be ob- 
tamed ; and she, yieldmg to her deep tenderness, could 
not consent to her son entering upon so dangerous a 
pursuit. In fact, she could not part with him. Rela- 
tions blamed her as 'a fond, unthinking mother,' bat- 
it was ovring to these yearnings of her maternal love, 
that> under Divine Providence, the whole career of her 

jmv, JOBV BsctmAcn amd his mothsb. 115 

am wm indebted. Had he entered the British nafy» 
it is probaUe his name wofold never have been heavi 
e£; and his ooimtiy's destinies might have been yeij 

** The anient youth yielded obedience to his mother^a 
wishes, and resigned the phin which in his heart he 
eoncmred in, and Providence opened another and a 
ht^[hter path for him. 

** The character of a warrior is not one we woold pre- 
sent for admiration ; bnt Washington was as great in 
peace as he was victorioos in conquest ; and compaied 
with all warriorB of ancioit and modem times, he is, 
hejoad all others, humane, just, magnanimous, and 
patriofic. The emancipator of his country, his name is 
never pronounced without reverence, and when his 
warlike work was done, he retired into private life, and 
became as much beloved for the gentler virtues, as he 
had been admired for the greatness of his genius, and 
the splendor of his achiev^nents." 


Hi was bom at CoUeston, Counly of Kinross, Scot* 
land, Feb. 2d, 1736. His father was distinguished by 
his good sense and patriotic spirit ; being particularly 
active in promoting improvements, conciliating di£Bar- 
ences, and managing the interests of the young, cons- 
nutted by dying pannts to Us care. I£s mother wat 


the only chfld of the Rev. Andrew Ure, ministor of 
ToBsaway. In her, good sense, enlargement of mind, 
and fervent piety, were asaociated with all the gentler 
dispositions. The tuition of such a mother must be the 
greatest value to the young. The tenderness of her 
heart gives her peculiar powers of persuasion, and re- 
li^on never appears so lovely to a child as when its 
ardor glows on a mother's countenance, nor its lessons 
so meldng as when they are enforced by her tears, and 
followed by her prayers. She marked with pleasure 
her son's early inclmation for the ministry. To prepare 
him for this sacred office, she labored to form pious 
sentiments in his mind, and to cherish devout feelings 
in his heart ; and the symptoms of a gracious charac- 
ter, which she discovered in the rising youth, gave her 
the greatest delight. This desire for the ministry waa 
strengthened by the visits which he paid to his grand- 
father. Young as he was, he marked with deep inter- 
est the piety of his manner, the calmness of his dwell- 
ing, his studious habits, his delight in the service of 
God, and his beneficent care of his parish. Nor did 
he ever forget the solemnity and kindness of the ven- 
erable man, when, like Jacob blessing his grandsons, 
he kid his hand on his head and besought the God 
who had fed him all his life long to bless the child. 
At a suitable age John went to the College of Edin- 
burgh; and while there, through preserving grace, 
and the Divine blessing on a religious education, his 
conduct was exemplary. Some time after this, he was 
deprived by death of his invaluable mother. The 


parting, after a yint which he paid her in her illness, 
was solemn and affecting to them both. She felt that 
•he should see his face no more ; and while he stood 
weeping by her couch, she expressed her firm hope in 
Christ : soothed him hy yarious assurances of Divine 
guidance and consolation, exhorted him to a close walk 
with God, and with a voice which sunk into his heart, 
gave him a Christian mother's last blessing. Septem- 
ber 6th, 1756, he was ordained to the pastoral care of 
a congregation at Falkirk, and m this situation he con- 
tinued till his death. Here, for forty years, he vxu a 
immiing and a shining light. His private life, his do- 
mestic conduct, and his public ministry, were all direct- 
ed by the same holy principles. He was frequently 
deputed to restore societies at variance to harmony ; 
and for this labor of love, he was singularly qualified 
by his meekness and prudence. By his influence, dis- 
sensions in families, in neighborhoods, and in congre- 
gations, have been healed ; and he has left the place 
which has been the dark scene of animosity and strife, 
with blessings on his head from those whose happiness 
has been restored by the return of concord and benev- 
olence. His mild and affectionate disposition prepared 
him for the enjoyment of social comforts. Two years 
after his ordination, he was married to a young lady in 
his own congregation, whom God made an emment 
blessmg to him and to their family. His home was 
the rest of his heart. His solicitude for the welfare of 
his partner and children was tender and constant. The 
seasons which he set apart for private devotion were 


marked by the youngest with reverential interest ; and 
from the closet ci prayer he returned with a eounte- 
nance the mdex of a heart sanctified and gladdened by 
piety, to bless his household by the intercourse dT 
Idndness, and the counsels of wisdom. It was his de- 
Sght to say or do whater^ would contribute to its 
happiness. His attention to the religious instmetioD 
of his family was not confined to the evenings of the 
Lord^s day, but was often manifested at other seascMis* 
lliere was such a sweetness in his mode oi teaching, 
that the scene and hour oi tuition was never gloomy, 
but always pleasant. He Sstened to the tasla ai hia 
children not merely with patience, but with evident 
interest. His advices were singularly solemn, tender, 
and appropriate ; and the directions he gave them as 
to prayer were happily adapted to guide the youthful 
mind to devotion. It was his care to obtain for them 
suitable books, and to examine what information they 
had derived, and what impressions they had felt in the 
perusal ; and such were often his inquiries after thor 
attendance on religious ordinances. These interesting 
duties were seconded with unwearied assiduity, by the 
pious and enlightened care ci a mother, whose heart 
was devoted to their best interests. When two of hia 
sons, at the most promismg season of life, were tak^i 
from him by death, — ^Hke a truly Christian parent, he 
labored to assuage the grief of his family, and thus 
expressed his devout acquiescence in the will of hea- 
ven: "I must say with Jacob, 'Joseph is not» and 
Simeon is not,' but with hhn I will not say, 'all these 


tbings are agunst me ;' for that is no longer mine which 
God claims, and I believe that his darkest paths a» 
mercy." His fourth son was educated for tiic minis- 
try ; and never, (to use his own words) " never can be 
forgot the solemn representations of his father, of the 
I»ety, wisdom, and zeal required in that office, of its 
tremendous responsibility, of the rewards promised to 
the faithful pastor, an^ of the doom of him who should 
disgrace that function by the spirit of the world, or 
the error of the wicked. He felt the deepest interest 
in the progress of his studies ; and when he was licens- 
ed to preach the Gospel, this was the animating charge 
by which he encouraged one so young, under a trust 
80 solemn, '' My aon, be strong in the grace that is in 
"Christ Jesus,*^ When this promising young man was 
i^pointed to be his colleague and successor, Mr. Bel- 
finge regarded it as the sanction of heaven to a rela- 
tion which should unite his son more closely to him. 
He rejoiced m it, not merely as what might be his 
solace in advanced Ufe, and a comfort to his family, but 
as likely to maintain the peace of his congregation ; 
and most earnest were his prayers that it might con- 
tribute to advance their best interests. When the or- 
dination took place, his exhortations on that occasion 
were solemn, afifectionate, and faithful, like those of 
David to Solomon, his son, when he said to him — 
** Thou Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy 
Father, and serve him with a perfect heart and a wOl- 
nig mind ; for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and un- 
deritandeth all the imaginations of thtf thoughts ; if 


tboa seek him be will be focmd of tbee; but if thou 
foisake bim be will cast tbee off forever." — 1 Cbroni- 
cles xxviii. 9. Tbe youngest in tbe families of bis 
cbarge said tbey loved bim, be was so mild and so 
good. He was deligbted to see tbem bappj, and by 
tracing tbeir tempers and capacity, be would suggest 
bis pious counsels, in language so «mple as to be un* 
derstood, and in tbe most engaging manner. Haying 
attained a good old age, amidst tbe esteem and love 
botb of bis congregation and family, be was taken iD, 
and obliged to abandon bis sacred work. Tbe vener- 
able sufferer cbeered and comforted bis sorrowing 
bousehold. To bis wife be said, '' Tby Maker is tbme 
busband." To bis cbildren — " I bave left you all in 
God." On tbe last Sabbatb of bis life, wben bis son 
and some otber of bis family came in from pubMc wor- 
sbip, be said, — ^* My beart was witb yon ; I am trying 
to raise it to tbe temple above, wbere a rest, a Sabbath 
remainetb for tbe people of God. I bave Icmgpreacbed 
salvation by Cbrist, my wisb is to join tbe great multi* 
tude above." And witb bis eyes turned to bis family, 
be added, " and to be jcxned by all I love on eartb, in 
singibg salvation to God, and to tbe Lamb forever." 
He spoke frequently, in bis illness, of bis congrega- 
tion ; expressed bis satisfaction tbat tbey were not de- 
prived of any religious ordinance by bis afflicticm; 
commended tbem to tbe care of tbe Sbepberd and 
Bishop of souls ; implored bis gracious acceptance of 
bis ministry, and earnestly prayed tbat tbe kingdom of 
Cbrist might' flourish among tbem. To his son» be 


said, ** I have been committing yon to the care of the 
Great Apostle and High Priest of our profession. He 
,ynJl be the guide of your youth, and in the light and 
grrace of His presence, you shall not miss a father's 
counsels or kindness." When he felt his end approach- 
ing, he expressed, in a faltering voice, his attachment 
to his family, declaring that Christ was all his hope, 
and his parting mtercession and blessing was his last 
expression of piety and love. In a short time after he 
entered into rest, and like Dayid, having $erved hugmh 
eration a/ceordvng to the wUl <^ God, he fell asU^» 


Mb. Cboil was bom in Chiswell Street, London, Not. 
8th, 1748. His father and grandfather were scarlet 
dyers to the East India Company. His mother was 
the only child of Mr. Grosyenor, a merchant, in Lon- 
don, and brother to the Rev. Dr. Grosvenor, the weD* 
known author of the '' Mourner." To many other ex- 
cellent traits in her character, may be added, her be- 
nevolence to the poor. In order to enlarge her*re* 
sources, she employed herself in working fine work, 
according to the fiashion of the day, which she sold for 
their benefit. Bichard was bom after his mother 
was fifty years old ; during her travail with this son 
of her old age, her heart was oyerwhelmed with sor- 
sow. Yet this child was the comfort and honor of 
her latter dajrs ! In his childhood, Mr. Cecil 


often exposed to imminent danger, and only pres^iretl 
by evident divine interposition. The following is a 
remaikable instance. His father had in the ground, 
pear his dye-house, several large backs of water, one 
of which was sunk into the eiuih, and in winter was 
frequently covered with ice. A hole was made in the 
ice for the purpose of supplying the horses with water. 
At this hole Bichard was playing with a stick, iill he 
suddenly plunged under the ice. The men had recdved 
particular orders over night, to go to work in a part c^ 
the dye-house from which this piece oi water was not 
visible ; but for reasons which could not be assigned, 
they went to work at an opposite part, where it was di- 
rectly before their eyes. One of the men thought he 
saw a scarlet cloak appear at the hole broke in the ice, 
«Dd resolved to go and see what it was ; in attempting 
to take it out, he discovered it to be the scsu-let coat oi 
bia young master. He was taken out apparently dead ; 
but, after long effort, was recovered. This child of 
Providence had early religious impressions. These were 
first received from Janeway's " Token for Children," 
which his mother gave him when he was about six 
years of age. " I was much affected by this book," 
said he, *' and recollect that I wept, and got into a cor- 
ner, where I prayed that I also might have * an interest 
in Christ,' like one of the children there mentioned, 
though I did not then know what the expression meant." 
Those impressions, however, wore away. He fell into 
the follies and vices of youth, and, by degrees, began to 
liiten to infidel principles, till he avowed himself openly 


ML unbeliever. "Erea at this period, and indeed tfaroogb- 
^wt his whole life, he acted on principles of honor and 
integrity. One instance is both smgular and fdeasing. 
When he was but a litde boy, his father went on butit' 
nesB to the India House, and took Richard with hiBL 
While he was transacting his bu^ess, his son was dis- 
■lissed, and directed to wut for him at cme c^ the doors. 
His father, on finishing his business, went out at an- 
other door, and entirely f<n*got that he had ordered hia 
son to wait for him. In the evening, his mother, mivh 
ing the child, inquired where he was ; on which hia 
father, recollecting his directions^ sud, ''You may 
depend on it, he is still waiting where I appointed 
bim." He immediately returned to the India House, 
and found him on the spot where he had been ordered 
to wait. He knew that his father expected him to wait^ 
and would not disappoint him. Though he had east 
oS the yoke of religion, tfet the effect of parental infim- 
mee^ and qf early education, was still powerful and sal" 
uiary. He himself said afterward to his parents, ** The. 
qfirit and tone of your home will have great vnflueme 
on your children. If it is what it ought to be, it will 
often fasten conviction on their minds, however wicked 
they may become ; I have felt the truth of this in my 
own case ; I said, ' My father is right, and I am wrong ; 
Oh, Ut me die the death of the righUoue, and let my lait 
end be like hia P The bye conversations of a family 
are, in this view, of unspeakable importance. On the 
whole, arguments addressed to the heart press more 
forcibly than those addressed to the head. When I 


was a child, and a rery wicked one, too, one of Dr. 
Watts's hymiiB sent me to weep in a comer. I felt 
the influence of faith in sufiering Christianfl. The 
character of joung Samuel came home to me, wl^en 
nothing else had any hold on my mind." And again, 
'' Where parental influence does not convert, it hampers. 
It hangs on the wheels of eyil. I had a puma mother, 
who dropped things in my toay ; I could never rid my- 
mdf of thum. I liked to be an infldel in company^ 
rather than when alone. I was wretched when by 
myself. I could not direst myself of my better prin- 
ciples. I went with one of my companions to see ' the 
Minor.' The ridicule on regeneration was high sp<»t 
to him : to me it was none ; it could not more my fea- 
tures. He knew no difference between regeneratioDi 
and transubstantiation. I did : I knew there was such 
a thing. I was afraid and ashamed to laugh at it. Pa- 
rental influence thus cleaves to a man ; it harasses him ; 
it throws itself continually in his way. My mother 
would talk to me, and weep as she talked. I flung out 
of the house with an oath, but wept, too, when I got 
into the street My father had a religious servant. I 
frequently cursed and reviled him. He would only 
smile on me. Th^t went to my heart; I felt that h^ 
looked on me as a deluded creature ; I felt that he 
thought he had something which I knew not how to 
value, and that he was therefore greatly my superi<M: ; 
I felt there was real dignity in his conduct. It made 
me appear little even in my own eyes." For this dar- 
ing offender, however, God had mercy m reserve. He 


was the ehUd of many tears, instructions, admonitions, 
and prayers ; and though now a prodigal, grace soon 
restored and sared him. Lying one night in bed, he 
was contemplating the case of his mother. " I see/' 
said he within himself, '' two imquestionable facts : first, 
my mother is greatly afflicted — in cvcnmstances, body, 
and mind — and yet I see that she cheerfully bears up 
under all, by the support she derives from ccmstanily 
retiring to her closet and her Bible : secondly, that she 
has a secret spring of comfort of which I know nothing ; 
while I, who give an unbounded loose to my appetites, 
and seek pleasure by eveiy means, seldom or never 
find it. If, however, there is any such secret in relig- 
ion, why may I not attain it as well as my mother? I 
will immediately seek it of God." He instantly rose in 
bis bed and began to pray. But he was soon damped 
in his attempt, by recollecting that much of his moth- 
er's comfort seemed to arise from her faith in Christ. 
** Now," thought he, " this Christ I have ridiculed ; he 
stands much in my way, and can form no part of my 
prayers." In utter confusion of mind, therefore, he lay 
down again. Next day, he continued to pray to " the 
Supreme Being ;" he began to consult book^, and to 
attend preachers; his difficulties were gradually re* 
moved, and his objections answered ; and his course of 
life began to amend. He now listened to the pious ad- 
monitions of his mother, which he had before affected 
to receive with pride and scorn ; yet they had fixed 
themselves in his heart like a barbed arrow. Now, he 
would ^Uscourse with her, and hear her, without out* 


tlie pious matron caused him daily to commit to mem- 
ory the passage he had just read ; hut what he ex- 
perienced most useful in after-life from her mstructions, 
was the particular manner in which she pointed out 
Jesus Christ in every place where his name was men* 
ttoned, uniformly inquiring of her pupil, " Who Christ 
was ? What he did ? What he said ?" showmg how 
mysterious he was as God and man, and how gra- 
ciously and powerfully he exhibited himself in all his 
parables and miracles. This was real instruction ; and 
it laid a foundation on which her pupil raised an im- 
mortal superstructure. 

Under such instructions, his mind caught a flame of 
love for the New Testament. He reposed with it under 
bis pillow at night. It was his last care when going 
to sleep, and his first when he awoke. His mind ex- 
panded in the knowledge of the Scriptures, and his 
memory became retentive of their truths. When about 
eight years of age, he went to the Presbyterian Meet- 
ing House of Broughshane (of which his mother was a 
member), on a Communion Sabbath. Agreeably to 
the ancient usage of the Scottish Kirk, it was at that 
time customary for Presbyterian clergymen to be hab- 
ited in blue when dispensing the Lord's Supper. The 
appearance of the minister (the Rev. Chsu-les Brown) 
in this singular dress, the snow-white covering of the 
sacramental table, the view of the holy elements, the 
solemnity of the subjects, and the devotion of the peo- 
ple, made an indelible impression on his young mind ; 
and he frequently declared that on that day, and in 

Bxy. jAus xn>D, d.j).. Aim his mother. 129 

^t place, he fonned the resolutioii of uaiiig ereiy 
endeavor to become qualified for being a preacher of 
the Gospel of Christ. To the attainment of his wishesy 
however^ there were many obstacles — ^the most serious 
of which was pecuniary disability. Determined to 
make the attempt, he borrowed a copy of Wittenhall's 
Latin Grammar, and began repeating lessons to a 
young man, named James Bitchie, who was accounted 
the best Latin scholar then attending the school, taught 
by Mr. Linton, in the neighborhood, and who became 
exceedingly attached to young Kidd, and assiduously 
labored to promote his improvement. It was now that 
the embryo professor of languages set to work in earn- 
est. The intensity of his application so absorbed every 
thought, that his mind was both night and day upon 
the stretch. He awoke frequently in the silence of 
night, and lighting what in the country is cailed 9k split, 
looked at any passage in which he found himself de- 
ficient, and having mastered the difficulty, consigned 
himself again to sleep. At the age of nine, he accus- 
tomed himself to rise by the first glimpse of dawn, and 
from that time till his last illness, he continued to in- 
culcate and practice early rising. In this manner he 
pursued his Latin studies through the Grammar Vo- 
cabulary, Corderius, and Justin, when death deprived 
him of his friend and benefactor, Ritchie. New diffi- 
culties now presented themselves ; but so much had 
his industry and perseverance attracted general notice, 
that Mr. Allan, a neighboring farmer, placed him for 
six months at the school which Ritchie had attended. 


Here he made rapid progress in the study of Laiiii» 
while writing and arithmetic were not n^lected ; and 
when he left school, scarcely ten yean of age, he was 
able, with the assistance of such class-books as he 
could procure on loan, to become his own instructor. 

Britain having acknowledged the independence of 
her late colonies in America, Mr. Eidd formed the res- 
olution of emigrating to that country, in the hope of 
being able to push his fortune. He accordingly em* 
barked for Philadelphia, with Mrs. Eidd, in April, 
1784. He carried with him no letters of introduction, 
and, consequently, on his arrival, he had no friends to 
welcome him. On the recommendation of Mr. Little, 
a schoolmaster in the neighborhood, he undertook the 
tuition of a family, near New Jersey, and soon after 
became preceptor in a family in Maryland. After this 
he removed to Philadelphia, and took part with Mr. 
Little in the labor of conducting his school. And soon 
afterward, he was induced to open a classical academy 
— an undertaking which proved very successful. A 
vacancy for an usher having occurred in the College 
of Pennsylvania, Mr. Eidd became a candidate, and 
was elected to the situation. While acting in this ca- 
pacity, he was enrolled a student in the University, 
whero he went through a regular academical course. 
During this tune, he was also employed as a corrector 
for the press, and in this situation he first saw the 
Hebrew alphabet. In a very short time he became 
perfectly master of the letters and pomts, and placed 
himsdf under the tuition of a Portuguese Jew, by 


whose mstructioiis, and lus oim intense appficattoo, be 
became familiar with the Book of Genesis In the covne 
of a few months. 

At this period, Mr. Eidd's finances were reduced to 
a Tery low ehb, owing to the exorbitant chaises of his 
Jewish teacher, and tiie expenses consequent on a ris- 
ing family. With extreme parsimony, he had accu- 
mulated as many dollans as would purchase a suit of 
dothes, of which he stood very much in want ; but he 
had likewise, for some time, cast his eyes wistfully 
upon a Hebrew Bible, in the shop of a Dutch book- 
seller, to obtain which was to him an object of extreme 
solicitude. He had repeatedly called on purpose to 
see the much-wished-for treasure ; and oftentimes, in 
passing, he looked at it through the window. While 
going in quest of the new suit, he went near the book- 
shop. The Bible caught his eye, and that glance was 
sufficient. The cash was in hand, and his heart greedy 
for the long-coveted object, — the Dutchman was loud 
in his encomiums on the excellence of the type and 
the edition. It was enough; our young Hebraist 
threw down the money, destined fpr another purpose, 
and carrying off his prize in triimiph, began again, with 
humility and resignation, to accumulate, by private 
teaching and correcting the press, the sum requisite to 
replace his threadbare garments by new ones. He 
now occasionally attended a Jewish S3rnagogue, where 
he learned to read Hebrew fluently, and became mti- 
matdy acquainted with the peculiarities of the language 
and the Jewish ceremonies. Orientid languages be* 


oame his fayorite study ; and^two designs occupied his 
thoughts, namely, traveling in the East, or studying 
divinity in Scotland. He was induced to abandon the 
former by his intimate friend, the celebrated Dr. Ben- 
jamin Rush, of Philadelphia. At length he embarked 
for Scotland, carrying with hhn letters of introduction 
to many of the most eminent literary characters in 
Edinburgh. By their advice, he, a second time, com- 
menced a course of academical study, and was en- 
rolled a student of divinity of the Established Church 
of Scotland. ' While attending the various duties at 
College he opened classes under the immediate patron- 
age of the celebrated Rabbi Robertson, as a teacher of 
Oriental languages ; and his success in this undertak- 
ing was so eminent, that when the professorship of Orien- 
tal languages in the Marischal College of Aberdeen be- 
came vacant by the death of Dr. Donaldson, he was, 
on the recommendation of Drs. Hill and EJrskine, and 
other distinguished individuals, appointed to fill that 
chair. In 1793, Mr. Kidd went to Aberdeen and be- 
gan the duties of his office, which he performed with 
honor to himself, and advantage to the numerous min- 
isters of the Gospel of Christ, who studied the orig- 
inal of the Sacred Scriptures under his care. By bis 
• instrumentality the knowledge and study of Hebrew 
was revived in the north of Scotland, where this lan- 
guage had been comparatively dormant for a great 
many years. 

Although he had studied divinity for two sesaona 
in the University of Edinburgh, he was so anxious to 


perfect himself for the ministry, that he attended four 
saecessiye courses at the theological halls of Emg's 
and Marischal Colleges ; after which he was licensed 
as a preacher of the Gospel by the Presbytery of 

Shortly afterward he was appointed evening lecturer 
in the Trinity Chapel, Aberdeen, where he continued 
to officiate for five years. On the 18th June, 1807, 
he was ordained minister of the Chapel of Ease, Gil- 
eomston, in the immediate neighborhood of Aberdeen, 
where he dispensed the bread of life to perhaps the 
most numerous congregation in Scotland, until the 
period of his death, which took place on the 24th of 
December, 1834, in the seventy-third year of his age. 

In 1818 the College of New Jersey conferred on 
Professor Eidd the unsolicited degi'ee of Doctor in 
Divinity ; an honor to which his superior talents gave 
him an unquestionable claun. 

Deeply impressed with the responsibility attached 
to his character as a minister of the everlasting Gos- 
pd, Dr. Eidd labored in the discharge of his duty 
with an assiduity that has seldom been equaled. The 
dying and the afflicted, the widow and the orphan, 
were the objects of his daily care ; and while he stren- 
uously exerted himself for the rehef of tlieir temporal 
wants, he poured the consolations of religion into their 
wounded spirits, and taught them to lay their burdens 
upon Him who alone can adminster comfort to the dy- 
ing and balm to the afflicted, and who is the husband 
of the widow, and the orphan's stay. 

12 i 



Claudius Buchanan was bom at Cambuslang, near 
Glasgow, March 12ih, 1766. His mother was the 
daughter of Mr. Claudius Somers, aa elder of the 
Church ci Scotland. Both these excellent persons 
trained up the youthful object of theur care, from his 
earliest years, in religious principles and habits. He 
himself olten recollected, in future life, the serious 
impressions that were made upon his mind at this 
period, by the devotion ohserred in his fftther^s house, 
and by the admonitions which his affectionate and 
pious grandfather was accustomed to address to him 
occasionally in his study. And though, as it will af- 
terward appear, the instructions and example €i his 
pious relatives were not immediately productive <^ any 
decided and permanent effect, yet he must be added 
to the number of those who ultimately deriveid essoi- 
tial benefit from having been brought up " in the twr* 
ture and admonition of the Lord" and as affording 
fresh encouragement to religious parents to pursue a 
course which has been so frequently crowned with hap- 
py success. Young Buchanan was sent to school 
at the age of seven, where he remained for sev- 
eral years. About his fourteenth or fifteenth year, his 
religious impressions revived, which he communicated 
to his excellent grandfather, who carefully cherished 
them, and assured him of his prayers. For a few 


months he continued m this promismg course, spending 
much time in devotion amongst the rocks on tiie sea- 
shore ; hut at length his serious thoughts were dissi- 
pated hy the society of an irreligious companion, and 
his goodness, like th»t of many a hopeful youtii, van- 
isshed " as a morning cloud, and as the early dew ;" 
nor was it till many years afterward, that painful and 
salutary conTicti<ms led him to seek that God whose 
early invitations he had ungratefully refused. From 
his childhood, Claudius was intended by his parents 
for the ministry ; but as he grew up to manhood, he so 
£ar lost his sense of piety to God, and duty to his pa- 
rents, as to set out with the romantic design of making 
the tour of Europe on foot ; and in order to prevent 
any opposition to his scheme from his relatives, he pre- 
tended that he had been invited by an English gentle- 
man to accompany his son upon a journey to the Con- 
tinent; and he displayed the advantages of this en- 
gagement in so flattering a light to his father and 
mother; as to procure their consent. Thus were they 
deceived by their own child. A rash undertaking like 
this, commenced in guilt and folly, could not be ex- 
pected to succeed. Young Buchanan wa& destitute of 
pecuniary resources, and therefore proposed to support 
himself through his projected journey as an itinerant 
-musician. He was, however, heartily tired of his men- 
dicant life before he reached the borders of England, 
and would gladly have returned home ; but pride would 
not suffer him to confess his faults to his parents, and 
aak their forgiveness. He therefore embarked in a ves- 


sel at North Shields, and sailed for London. A storm 
arose daring the yojage, and the perverse young man 
felt that the judgment of God, as in the case of Jonah, 
was now overtaldng him. His merciful Father watched 
over hhn in the hour of danger, and spared him for fd- 
tore usefulness. On the 2d of September, he arrived 
safely in London. " But by this time," he himself ob- 
served, " my spirits were nearly exhausted by distress 
and poverty. I now relinquished every idea of gwag 
abroad." He did not yet feel his sin in a proper man- 
ner. But supporting himself in London by writing, 
and often experiencing hardships and privations, he 
still corresponded with his friends in Scotland, as from 
ahroad, dating his fictitious letters from various parts 
of the Continent, and always giving them flattering 
aecounts of his health and situation. In about a year 
after his departure, his father died, Aug. 24th, 1788. 
Notwithstanding this solemn event, he still continued 
to deceive his widowed and affectionate mother. Dur- 
ing this period, he was restless and unhappy. His con- 
science warned and reproached him. T he reli^^ious prtfi" 
eiples imbibed in youth operated as a salutary restraint, 
and preserved him from some temptations. At times, 
he would seriously reflect on his improper conduct, at- 
tend upon divine worship, bow his knee in prayer, and 
resolve upon a new life. At length, in 1790, after 
three years had been spent in wandering from the way 
of peace, it pleased God to bring the prodigal to him- 
self. '' In the month of June last," he writes, in Feb. 
1791, ''on a Sunday evening, a serious young man 


called upon me. Among other things, I asked him, 
whether he helieved there was such a thing as divine 
grace. He took occasion from this inquiry to enlarge 
much on the subject ; spoke with zeal and earnestness, 
and chiefly in Scripture lang^uage ; and concluded with 
a very affecting address to the conscience and the heart. 
While he spoke I listened to him with earnestness, and 
before I was aware, a most powerful impression was 
nuftde upon my mind. I reflected on my past sins with 
horror, and spent the night I know not how. The next 
day my fears wore off a little, but they soon returned. 
I anxiously waited the arrival of Sunday, but when it 
came, I found no relief. After some time, I commu- 
nicated my situation to my religious fnend ; he prayed 
with me ; and next Sunday I went with him to hear 
an eminent minister." He now prayed often, read 
pious books — Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Relig- 
ion in the Soul, AUeine's Alarm to the Unconverted, 
and Boston's Fourfold State — ^and sought with deep 
concern the salvation of his soul. He concludes this 
narrative with a most emphatic sentence : '* Nothing 
but the hand of the Almighty who created me can 
change my heart." During this state of conviction, 
he opened the state oi his mind to his mother, and re- 
quested her prayers. In reply, among other counsels, 
she advised him to seek the acquaintance of the Rev. 
John Newton, of St. Mary Woolnoth, London. This 
was a valuable suggestion. Mr. Newton, as will ap- 
pear from one of the preceding articles of biography, 
had himself been in a tdmilar situation to young Bu- 
12* * 


ohaaan, and therefore knew how to address himself to 
his mind, and to speak '' a word in season,*' Mr. Bu- 
chanan now began to attend on Mr. Newton's miniatcy, 
but did not immediately find the. benefit expected. 
*' But," he observes with genuine humility, ** 1 have 
now learned how unreasonable was such an early expec- 
tation ; I have been taught to wait patiently upon God, 
who waited so long for me.** In this anxious, mourn- 
ful condition, he wrote to Mr. Newton. In his letter, 
he pathetically says, ** O sir, what shall I do to mherit 
eternal life ? If the world were my inheritance, I 
would sell it to purchase that pearl of great price. 
How I weep when I read of the prodigal son, as de- 
scribed by ouir Lord ! I would walk many miles to 
hear a sermon from 2d Chronicles, xxxiii. 12, Id.*' 
He proceeds, '' To-moirow is the day you have ap- 
pointed for a sermon to young people. Will you re- 
member me, and speak some suitable word, that by 
the aid of the blessed Spirit may reach my heart?" 
Though this letter was without any signature, it so 
deeply interested the venerable clergyman to whom it 
was addressed, that he intimated from the pulpit, that 
if the writer was present he should be happy to con« 
verse with him on the subject of his communication. 
" I called on him," says Mr. Buchanan, in another let- 
ter to his mother, ** on the Tuesday following, and ex- 
perienced such a happy hour as I ought not to forget. 
U he had been my father, he could not have expressed 
more solicitude for my welfare." 
A great and happy change now took place in the 


heart and conduct of this returning penitent. And 
now he was led once more into the paths of piety, he 
began again to desire to preach the Qospel. " Yes- 
terday morning/' he obsenres, *^ I went to hear Dr. S. 
Near the conclusion of the sendee, I was insensibly led 
to admire this passage of the prophet Isaiah, ' How 
beautiful are the feet of them that preach the Gospel 
of peace !' It occurred to me that this enviable office 
was once designed for me ; that I was called to the 
ministry, as it were, from my infancy. For my pious 
grandfather chose me from among my mother's chil- 
dren to live with himself. He adopted me as his own 
child, and took great pleasure in foiming my young 
mind to the love of God. He warmly encouraged my 
parent's design of bringing me up to the ministry. I 
particularly recollect the last memorable occasion of 
my seeing this good grandfather. The first season of 
my being at College, I paid him a visit. After ask* 
ing me some particulars relating to my studies, he put 
the following question to me.; ' What end had I in 
view in becoming a minister of the Gospel ?' I hes- 
itated a moment. But he put an answer into my 
mouth. ' With a view, no doubt, to the glory of God.' 
I recollect no other particular of the conversation but 
this. It made a strong impression upon my mind, and 
even often recurred to my thoughts m the midst of my 
unhappy years. It suddenly came into my mind again 
that I might yet be a preacher of the Gospel. These 
reflections filled me with delight; and as I walked 
home, the sensation increased ; so that by the time I 


entered my cliamber, my spirits were oyerpowered, 
and I fell on my knees before God, and wept. I 
thought that I, who had experienced so mnch of the 
divine mercy, was peculiarly engaged to declare it to 
others. After ferrent prayer, I endeavored to com- 
mit myself and my services into the hands of Him 
who alone is able to direct me." At this period, Mr. 
Buchanan received a letter from his mother, in which 
she thus expresses her thankfulness and joy on ac- 
count of his conversion : " Since you were a boy, it 
was impressed upon my mind that you would be a 
good man. I own of late years I was be^nning to 
lose my hope, particularly on the supposition of your 
going abroad. I thought with myself, this is not 
God's usual way of bringmg sinners to himself. But 
the word of consolation often came in remembrance, 
that ' God is a God afar off.' O how merciful has 
he been to you ! What comforting letters have you 
sent us ! Could a thousand pounds a year have af- 
forded an equal consolation ? Impossible. It might 
indeed have tied us faster to the earth, but it could 
not have set our hearts upon the unsearchable riches 
that are in Christ Jesus. Your friends at Glasgow 
are rejoicing with us ; some of them saying, ' Had the 
good old people (meaning his grandfather, and mother) 
been alive, how this would have rerived them!* 
Among your grandfather's papers I find the inclosed 
letter, written by Mr. Maculloch to him in a time of 
distress, when the sins of his youth oppressed him. 
Bead it with care, and may God grant a blessing in 


the phrasal." These sentiments made the penitent 
very happy. " It is not the smallest of my consola- 
tions," he exclaims, ''that I have such a mother as 
this." Through the munificent aid of that benevolent 
and Christian gentleman, Mr. Henry Thornton, and 
with the entire approbation of his friend, Mr. Newton, 
Mr. Buchanan went to the Uniyersity, where he pros- 
ecuted his studies with diligence and piety, and was at 
length ordained a minister of the Gospel. After preach- 
ing for some time in England, he went in a very im.- 
portant situation to India, where, for many years, Im 
fffcu a butTiing and shining light, and many rejoiced in 
his light. 


TiMOTHT DwiGHT wss bom at Northampton, in Amer- 
ica» May 14th, 1752. His father was a merchant, of 
good understanding and fervent piety. His mother 
was the third daughter of Jonathan Edwards, for many 
years the minister of Northampton, and afterward 
President of Nassau Hall, well known as one of the 
ablest divmesof the last century. She possessed un- 
common powers of mind, and great extent and variety 
of knowledge. Though married at an early age, and 
a mother at eighteen, she found tune, without neglect- 
ing the ordinary cares of her family, to devote herself 
with the most assiduous attention to the instruction of 
her numerous children. It was a maxim with her. 


fhe soundness of which her own observation through 
life folly confirmed, that children generally lose sev- 
eral years, in consequence of being considered by their 
friends as too young to be taught. She pursued a 
different course with her son : she began to instruct 
him as soon as he was able to speak ; and such was 
his eagerness, — as well as his capacity for improve- 
ment, that he learned the alphabet at a ringle lesson ; 
and before he was four years old, was able to read the 
Bible with ease and correctness. With the benefit of 
his father's example constantly before him, enforced 
and recommended by the precepts of his mother, he 
was carefully mstructed in the doctrines of rehgion, as 
well as in moral duties. She taught hhn from the 
very dawn of his reason to fear God, and to keep his 
commandments ; to be conscientiously just, kmd, affec- 
tionate, charitable, and forgivmg ; to preserve on all 
occasions, and under all circumJBtances, the most sacred 
regard to truth ; and to relieve the distresses, and sup- 
ply the wants of the poor and unforttmate. She 
aimed at a very early period to enlighten his con- 
science, to make him afraid of £dn, and to teach him to 
hope for pardon only through Christ. The impres- 
sions thus made upon his mind in infancy were never 
effaced. A great proportion of the instuction which 
he received before he arrived at the age of six years, 
was at home with his mother. 

His school-room was the nursery. Here he had his 
regular hours for study, as in a school ; and twice every 
di^ she heard him repeat his lesson. Here, in addi- 


1i<m to his stated task, lie watcbed the cradle of bis 
younger brothers. When bis lesson was redted, be 
was permitted to read such books as he chose, nntil the 
limited period was expired. During these intervals, be 
often read oyer the historical parts of the Bible, and 
gave an account of them to bis mother. So deep and 
distinct was the impression which these narrations then 
made upon his mind, that their minutest incidents were 
indebbly fixed upon bis memory. His relish for read- 
ing was thus early formed, and was strengthened by 
the conversation and example of his parents. His early 
knowledge of the Bible led to that ready, accurate, 
and extensive acquamtance with Scripture, which is so 
evident in his sermons and writings. At the age of siz^ 
be was sent to the grammar-school. Here, for two 
years, he made rapid advances, when the school wa6 
discontinued, so that he returned again to the care of 
bb mother. By this faithful and intelligent guide of 
bis youth, his attention was now directed to geography^ 
history, and other useful studies. This domestie edu- 
cation rendered him /and of home, of the company of his 
parents, add of the conversation of those who were 
older than himself. Even at this early period of life, 
while listening to the conversation of his father and 
friends on the character and actions of the great men 
of the age — both in the Colonies and m Europe— a 
deep and lasting impression was made upon his mind ; 
and be then formed a settled resolution, that be would 
make every effort in his power to equal those wboae 
talents and character be beard so highly extolled. 


In September, 1765, lie was admitted as a member 
of Yale College, where, in 1771, be became a tutor, 
when he was little more than nineteen years of age. In 
1777, he entered into the marriage state, and in the year 
following, he received the afflicting intelligence of the 
death of his father. The new and important duties 
which now devolved upon him, he undertook with great 
readiness and Idndness. He consoled his widowed 
mother under her painful bereavement, and assisted 
her in the support and education of the younger chil- 
dren. In this situation, he passed five of the most in- 
terestmg years of his life ; performing, in an exemplary 
manner, the offices of son, brother, and guardian. He 
was emphatically the sta£f and stay of the family. The 
elder, as well as the younger, were committed to his 
care, and loved and obeyed him. as their father. The 
filial affection, respect, and obedience which he showed 
toward his mother, and the more than fraternal kind- 
ness with which he watched over the well-being of his 
brothers and sisters, deserve the most honorable re- 
membrance. To accomplish this object, though desti- 
tute of property, he generously relinquished the pro- 
portion of the family estate ; labored for five years with 
a diligence and alacrity rarely ezampled; and for a 
long time afterward, he contmued his paternal care and 
liberality. Often did his mother, who died only ten 
years before him, acknowledge, m language of eloquent 
affection and gratitude, his kindness, faithfulness, and 
honorable generosity to her and her children. Tlie 
respect which she felt and manifested toward him, re- 


sembled the affection of a dutiful child toward her 
father, rather than the feelmgs of a mother for her son. 
Well was this inyalnable parent repaid for all her care 
m his religions education, for she declared with joy, a 
little before her death, that she did not know the in* 
stance in which he ever disobeyed a parental command, 
or failed in the pefformance of a filial duty. As a hus- 
band and a father, his life was eminently lovely. TUe 
education which he had himself happily received in his 
youth, he conveyed, as a rich inheritance, to his own 
children. His highest earthly enjoyment was found at 
the fireside, in the bosom of his family. To his broth- 
ers and sisters, he supplied, as far as possible, the loss 
they sustained in the death of their worthy father ; 
when that mournful event happened, ten of the chil- 
dren were under twenty-one years of age. For their 
comfort and support, he superintended the farm, fre- 
quently working upon it himself, taught an extensive 
school, and regularly preached on the Sabbath. For 
two years, he represented the town of Northampton, 
in the legislature of the State. In 1783, he became 
the pastor of a church and congregation at Greenfield, 
in Connecticut, and remained in that situation till 1795, 
when, to the sorrow and disappointment of an affec- 
tionate people, he entered on the important office of 
Preffident of Yale College. 

This seminary, in which he himself completed his 
education, was at that time in a languishing and unhap- 
py state. Discipline was relaxed, the number of stu- 
dents was greatly reduced, and what was much worse, 

146 BIT. DB. DWioar and ms mothks. 

niflnj of them bad imbibed loose and prolBtzie Benii* 
nente on the subject of refigion, and even went so far 
as to assume the names of well-known mfidels. The 
President applied himself yigoronsly to remote this 
awful eTil. He boldly met and refuted all the cavils 
and arguments of the students, though he gave them 
free liberty of debate ; and through the smile of Heay- 
en on his abilities and faithfulness, infidelity was com- 
pelled to flee into its native darkness, and restored 
truth appeared in its true dignity and splendor. His 
sound views of the instruction and discipline necessary 
for youth will be found in his published works, and 
aie worthy of serious regard. From the age of seven- 
teen to sixty-four, he was almost constantly engaged in 
the busmess of education, and during that period, he 
had between two or three thousand pupils under his 
care. He presided over the College for more than 
twenty years, with honor to himself, and advantage to 
the students. They honored and loved him as a father, 
and still revere his memory. The course of Divinity 
which he delivered for their instruction is extensively 
circulated in England, and worthy of a cordial recom- 
mendation. For the last few months of his life, he 
endured much pain and languor. His constitution 
sunk under incessant application. His s]nrit was re- 
signed, his mind serene, and his attachment to the pre- 
cious truths of revelation more strong and ardent than 
ever. These revived and supported him in the near 
prospect of death and eternity. His conversation, to 
the last, was serious, devout, and edifyii^. On Son- 


dty mamiiig, Jamauy 11th, 181Y» he bade adien to 
fUi tale of tears, aged abcty-fiye. The memoiy of 
ilas enlightened and useful man is still held in honom- 
hie lemembianoe, and his loss b imiversally beirafled 
as a great pabHc, as well as pzirate calamity. 


Akovo the many biiDiant names that adorn the annals 
of modem science, that of Baron Cuvier, the naturalist 
and philosopher, ranks pre-eminent. If it be interest- 
ing and instmctire to trace the windings of a noble 
lirer up to the obscure, and often insignificant spring 
from whence it rises, still more interesting and instruct- 
ive to the contemplative mind must it be to trace back 
the history of a great man to his childhood, and to dis- 
cover the influences that aided in deyeloping his genius, 
and the germs of mstmction that ultimately expanded 
into the rich fruits of knowledge. 

The father of Cuvier was advanced in life when he 
married a young lady of great virtue and intelligence, 
who, on the 22nd of August, 1679, at the town of 
Montpelier, became the mother of George Leopold 
Cuvier, the subject of our sketch. The loss of a son, 
which took place a few months prior to the birth of 
George, had such an eSect on the health and spirits 
of the young mother, that her offspring, at birth, was 
80 feeble and sickly, that only very faint hopes weve 
entertained of re^aing him. In this respect, his infancy 


fiunished a parallel to that of a kindred gemrm. Sir 
Isaac Newton, and the same extraordinaiy care and 
tenderness that distmgoished the devoted mother of 
Newton, was eyidenced by the equally admirable moth* 
er of Cnyier. With the yigiknt eyes of affection, Ae 
soon discerned the nncommon powers of mind display- 
ed by her fragile nursling, and while tending his in- 
fancy with a care that never relaxed or slmnbered, she 
paid due attention to his early mental cultivation : she 
piously mstiUed into his mind the principles of religiim, 
and, it is said, taught him to read fluently by the time 
he was four years old. Though ignorant of the Latin 
language, she mstructed herself sufi&ciently to enable 
her to hear his lessons. Under her superintendence, 
he commenced and made considerable progresa in 
drawing; and when his fluctuating health became 
more established, and he was able to go to school, she 
conducted him herself to and from the school, and 
directed his miscellaneous readings by supplying him 
with the best works on literature and history. The 
child so taught and cherished soon acquired a passion 
for readmg, and his evident delight in literary purBoitB 
induced his father to alter his previous determination, 
in reference to his subsequent pursuits in life. 

It had been the intention of the elder Guvier that 
his son should adopt the military profession, but for- 
tunately for science, the admirable instruction of the 
devoted mother had imbued her child with a taste for 
the more peaceful and ennobling pursuits of literature. 
The young Ouvier speedily manifested the peculiar 


bent of genius as a naturalist, and at fourteen years of 
age was appointed president of a society of his school- 
fellowB, where his oratorical powers were first exer- 
dsed in discussion on scientific subjects. His fame soon 
spread beyond the academy and town where he studied. 
And the Duke of Wirtemberg, having heard of his tal- 
ents and diligence, sent him under his own immediate 
patronage, and free of all expense, to the University 
of Stuttgard, where he continued four yeais, with hon- 
or to himself, and satisfiaction to his friends and pre- 

After leaving the University, he passed several years 
of his life in studying his fjEivorite subject — natural 
history, and made many valuable discoveries that have 
conferred immortality on his name. His admirable 
mother lived to witness the dawning, but not the me- 
ridian greatness of her distinguished son. To a mind 
like hers, it must have been a source of unspeakable 
jxmsolation that» at a time when infidel principles were 
pervading all ranks, and eating like a canker-worm 
into the very core of society in France, Cuvier was 
true to the hallowed faith that had been taught him 
at the hdy altar of a mother's knee, and never- swerv- 
ed from the religion whose truths he had lisped in 

Wlule yet a very young man, Cuvier was elected 
President of the National Institute of Paris — an msti- 
tntion that has been celebrated throughout the civilized 
world for the leammg and ingenuity of its professors. 
After the restoration of the B4>yal Family of France, 


in 1818» bonoTB in rich abundance were showered oat 
CuYier ; but distinctions did not make him relax Us 
diligence, or cease from his favorite pursuits and im- 
portant discoveries. No less than 206 memws of 
natural objects proceeded irom the pen of this distin- 
gnished man, added to which, was his constant labor 
as a lecturer at the Institute, and his unceasiqg toil in 
collecting, labeling, and arran^g natural curiosities 
for his immense museum. 

While his name is justly dear to men of science, in 
every relationship of life he was distinguished for his 
amiability ; and as son, husband, father, dtizen, and 
Christian, commands universal admiration and respect 


Lboh Richmond was bom at Liverpool, oa January 
29th, 1772. It was his privilege to have a most esti- 
mable mother, endued with a superior understandii^y 
which had been cultivated and improved by an excel- 
lent education and subsequent reading, and who, with 
considerable natural talents and acquirements, mani* 
fested a constant sense of the importance of re%i(»i. 

This affectionate and conscientious parent anxiously 
instructed him from his infancy m the Holy Scriptures, 
and in the principles of reli^on, according to the best 
of her ability ; a duty which was subsequently well 
repaid by her son, who became the happy and honored 
instrument of imparting to his beloved mother clearer 


and more enlarged yiews of diYine truth than were 
generally prevalent during the last generation. It 
seems highly prohahle that the seeds of piety were 
then sown^ which, in a future period, and under cir- 
cumstances of a proTidential nature, were destmed to 
produce a rich and ahundant harvest. 

Ye that are mothers, and whose office it more pecu- 
liariy is to instill into the minds of your ofispring an 
habitual reverence for Qod, and a knowledge of the 
truths of the Gospel, be earnest in your endeavors to 
fulfill the duties which Providence has assigned to yon. 
and which your tenderness, your affection, and the con- 
stant recurrence of favorable opportunities, so adnura- 
bly fit you to discharge. Consecrate them to God m 
early youth ; and remember that the child of many pray- 
ers can never perish, so long as prayer is availing. To 
faith all things are possible, and tiie promise stands 
firm, — " I will pour my Spirit on thy seed, and my 
blessmg upon thine ofispring." — Isaiah xliv. 3. Pray, 
then, for them and with them. There is an efficacy in 
the bended knee, in the outstretched hand, in the up- 
lifted heart, in the accents of prayer issuing from the 
lips of the mother, supplicating God to bless her child, 
which faith may interpret for its encouragement, and 
the future shall one day realise. There is also a so- 
lemnity in the act itself, peculiarly calculated to elicit 
aU the best feelings of the heart, and to quicken it in 
the diligent use of the means best adapted, through 
divine mercy, to insure the blessing. 

Discouragements may arise — impressions that once 


excited hope may yanisli — ^the fruit may not be appa- 
rent ; yet in after times, under circnmstances of the 
most impromising nature, and scenes, perhaps, of folly, 
vice, and dissipation, or in the more sober moments of 
siclmess and sorrow, the remembrance of a praying 
mother may present itself with overwhelming emotion 
to the heart. The events of early days may rise np in 
quick succession before the mind, until the long-lost 
wanderer, recovered from his slumber oi death and 
sin, may live to be a monument of the pardoning mer- 
cy of God, and his last acc^its be those of gratitude 
and praise for a pious mother. This justly celebrated 
and pious clergyman, whose praise was in all the 
churches, and whose history is flEuniliar to most read- 
ers, died in May, 1828. 


Henrt Eirk£ White was bom at Nottingham, on the 
21st of March, 1785. His father, John, was a butcher : 
his mother, Mary Neville, was of a respectable family, 
in Staffordshire. When three years of age he was sent 
to the school of a Mrs. Garrington, of whom he draws 
a very pleasing and affectionate picture, in lus verses 
on childhood. 

By this good woman he was taught to read ; and h^f 
her his future eminence was very confidently predicted. 
At six, he was placed imder the care of the Rev. John 
Blanchard, in whose seminary he learnt writing, arith- 


meticy and French. Whfle here, his love of reading, 
which had heen manifested at a -very early age, in- 
creased, and though he was employed, when out of 
school, in carrying the hutcher's basket, and was even 
obliged to devote one whole day^m each week to this 
occapation, yet his progress in his studies was aston- 
ishingly rapid. When about seven years of age, he 
was accustomed to steal into the kitchen for the pur- 
pose of teaching the servant to read and write ; and 
for this pmon he wrote a tale, which he modestly con- 
cealed from his mother. In his eleventh year, he one 
day composed a separate theme for every boy in his 
class, which consisted of twelve or fourteen scholars, 
and on this occasion, Mr. Blanchard told them, " that 
.he had never known them write so well before." Some 
difference, however, between his father and his teach- 
ers led to his removal to another school, under the 
care of Mr. Shipley. To the same cause is to be as- 
cribed a very unworthy representation of his charac- 
ter and disposition, by his former masters ; but he soon 
requited himself of the envy and malignity of this ac- 
cusation, by various satirictd poems, directed against 
his accusers, in which the rod was applied with a de- 
gree of severity and skill which astonished his friends, 
and galled his enemies. Under his new master, who 
quickly perceived, and candidly acknowledged his 
merits, he remamed till he was fourteen years of age. 

At this stage of our narrative, we cannot avoid call- 
11^ the attention of our readers to the early exercise 
of talent on the part of White, chiefly, however, with 


the view of remarkiiig, that the grest talent he thus 
early ezhilHted, was not merely an occanonal display 
of genius, a glinuner of fancy, which, in a lucky mo- 
ment, illumined his path and yanished forever; but 
rather the steady labor of a cultivated mind, the resalt 
of unremitting study and constant culture. Lore of 
knowledge spurred him on, even in boyhood, and led 
to a degree of peraeyerance and industry in his pur- 
suits, 'which is seldom found in more advanced stu- 
dents. The good effects of this praisew<Nrthy conduct 
we would strongly press upon the notice of our young 
readers. They establish the important truth too often 
neglected, or ccmtemned by the young man of genius, 
that, however great may be his natural powers, study 
alone can mature them, and lead to their useful exer- 

Among the difficulties which attended the progress 
of our young scholar in his literary acquiffltions, may 
be ranked the difference of opmion which prevailed be- 
tween his parents on the subject. His father seems at 
aQ times to have looked forward to his following the 
same trade as himself, and therefore to have been v^ 
little solicitous about his education. But his mother en- 
tertained very different views. She always expressed 
the strongest wishes to educate her son in a very supe- 
rior manner, and was ready to make every effort to se« 
cure the necessary means. Her affectionate solicitude 
on this point induced her to open a ladies' boarding and 
day-school, in Nottii^ham ; and though the pn^ts o£ 
tUa establishment increased in a very material degree 


the means of domestic comlort, jet ibe wants of raitaer 
a nmnerooB family led to large elasms cm ber sayings, 
and when Henry arrived at fourteen yeans of age, it 
-was resolved to apprentice him to a hosier. Here the 
term of his misery commenced. He did not relish his 
new emj^yment^ which was not <mly of the most irk- 
some kind, and too laborioos for his tend^ constitutioD, 
tmt one which left him no time for recreation or study. 
Hence he was deprived of aU that hterary enjoymsoit 
which could have enabled him to nndeigo the fatigms 
ci his situation. Constant exertion exhausted himi, and 
vexation and despondency preyed on his mind. It was 
daring this season of wretchedness that he composed 
his " Address to Cont^nplation/' in which his feehi^ 
are very forcibly depicted. At lasty after dragging 
oa a miserable existence for a year at the stookiiig- 
frame, his fond mother again interposed, and removed 
him to the office of Messns. Coldham and Enfield, most 
respectable attorneys, and town-clerks of Nottinghmn. 
His entry took place in 1800, but as no premium could 
be given with him, he was obliged, as a subetitute fear 
it, to serve two years before he was articled. 

Henry was now happy. His occupation was conge- 
nial to his feelings, and he entered upon its duties with 
ardor. In that ardor he never relaxed, and though, 
by the reconunendation of his masters, he devoted his 
leisure hours to the acquisition of the Latin language, 
and of his own accord engaged in the study of Greek, 
Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, he never allowed his 
fondest pursuits to interfere with his duties to his em- 

166 H. mux whits ahd his ifOTHXB, 

ployera. His industry was astonisbkig, and even to 
his fiiendsy but partially known. His acquirements in 
Kterature kept pace with his industry, and in a very 
short period outstript all expectation. Yet even amidst 
these studies, multifeuious as they were, he found time 
to acquire some knowledge of chemistry and astronomy, 
and some skill in drawing, and music, and mechanics. 
He attempted to become, and with some difficulty, on 
account of his youth, did become a member of a literary 
society in his native town, and soon after his election, 
accordmg to Southey, " He lectured upon genius, and 
spoke extempore, for about two hours, in such a man- 
ner, that he received the unanimous thanks of the so- 
dety, and they elected this young Roscius of oratory 
their Professor of Literature." He now began to con- 
tribute to several of the periodical works of the day, 
particularly the Monthly liiirror, and some of his pro* 
ductions in this miscellany procured him the notice 
and friendship of Mr. Capel Lofift, and other literary 
gentlemen, who delighted to foster rising genius. Un- 
der the sanction of then* approbation, he prepared a 
volume of poems for the press, and in 1808 published 
it, with a dedication to the celebrated Duchess of Dev- 
onshire, by whom, however, no notice was ever taken 
of the auHior or his work. In the Monthly Review, a 
piece of silly, heartless criticism appeared on the work, 
and poor White was stung almost to madness. But 
this wanton attack did not produce all the effects which 
its dull author seemed to wish, for its malignity and 
injustice were so very apparent, that they excited the 


notice of Southey, who, duiing the author's life, 
most attentire to his interests, and after his death, re- 
corded his virtues in a memoir, worthy of the high 
talent of its writer, and of the modest meiits of its 
subject. The attack, too, had been deliberately cmel, 
for White had informed the critics that the object of 
his publication was to enable him to prosecute his 
studies at one of the Universities. 

A growing deafness, to which he had been long 
subject, rendered him incapable of practicing at the 
bar, and a strong devotional bias inclined him to enter 
the church. 

Henry addressed the editor of the Review on the 
subject of the critique, and something like the amende 
honorable appeared in the next number; but still the 
unkindly wound rankled in the breast of the sensitive 
poet, and the fear of being thought a just sufferer, in« 
duced him afterward to decline a larger publication, 
projected for his benefit, by Southey, and which, under 
this distinguished writer's friendly protection, must 
have prduced a sum equivalent to the author's wants. 

When the corporeal defect before alluded to was 
found to affect his prospects of success at the bar, it 
became necessary to choose another profession for him ; 
and after considerable deliberation, it was resolved that 
he should enter the church. Hitherto, his attention 
had been directed to religious studies, and his notions 
on the various systems of belief prevalent in England 
do not seem to have been settled. Like many youth* 
fill speculators, indeed. Deism, or something approach- 


isg to it, appears to ha^e been hk first creed ; bnt be 
soon learned to correct bis opinions, and to form them 
on the standard of truth, famished hj the Scriptures. 
With the characteristic ardor of his mind, he was now 
anxioiis to qnfdif y himself for promnlgating his religions 
belief to others, and after enconnteiing many obstacles, 
he seemed at last ahnost obtain of entering the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge, nnder the auspices of Mr. Simeon, 
of St. John's College, to whom he had been introduced, 
and by whom his worth was highly appreciated. Pre- 
paratory to this step, his employers, who had most 
kindly agreed to relinquish the latter, and to them the 
most valuable half of his services, gave him leave of 
absence for a few weeks, to enable him to study, and 
recruit his health, by a change of air.> He relared, ac- 
cordingly, to his' favorite spot, the village of ll^Hlford, 
at Cfifton Woods, where, at tilie end of little more than 
a month, he had the mortification to learn that the 
plans formed for his benefit had entirely failed. The 
effects of this disappointment on his mind are best de- 
scribed by his own pen : — 

" There fell my hopes,— I lost my all in this, 
My cheriBhed all of visioiuuy bliss ; 
Now hope fkrewell, fiurewell all joys helow t 
Now weloome sonow, and now welcome woe." 

His health, too, suflfered severely, and his constitu- 
tion received a shock from which it never recovered. 
It is true he returned to Nottingham, and to his legal 
studies, with fresh vigor, determined to make up by re- 
doubled assiduity the time he had lost. But his dis- 


appointment preyed on bis mind, and his stro^les 
were those of despair. In the course of a very short 
period, however, the exertions of his friends, and the 
kmdness of Mr. Simeon, revived his hopes, and with 
these his health ; and so effectually did the latter gen* 
tleman employ his influence, that he not only procured 
for him a Sizarship in St. John's College, but obtained 
other assistance, without which the young scholar 
could not have profited by the situation thus conferred 
on him. Mr. Simeon did not stop even here ; he in- 
terested himself in his young fri^id's improvement and 
general conduct, advised him to decline the aid offnred 
to him by the Elland Clerical Society, and recomm^Ml- 
ed him to place himself under the tuition of the Rev. 
Mr. Grainger, of Wmteringham, for a year, that he 
might appear at college with greater advantage. 

Everything being now arranged to his satisfactkm, 
Henry left Nottingham in October, 1804, and repair- 
ed to the house of his tutor, under whom he pursued 
his studies for twelve months, with the greatest per- 
severance and success. His amiable qualities pro- 
cured him the friendship of Mr. Gramger during Mb 
life, and an affectionate testimonial of his worth after 
his death. 

Well might this gentleman boast of his pupil, for 
his attainments as a scholar were the admiration of 
all who knew him. Accordingly, when he entered 
college, his classical knowledge was perceived to be 
of the most respectable kind, and an unremitting ap- 
plication to study added daily to his literary stores. 


A scholarship soon became yacant, and he spent his 
days and nights in preparing himself to become a can- 
didate for it. . But his health sunk alarmingly under 
these exertions, and after all, he was obliged to declme 
the competition. 

The general examination foUowed, and believing it 
to be essential to his future progress, that on this oc- 
casion he should at all events confirm, and if possible, 
excel his previous reputation, he renewed his exertions 
in the midst of indisposition and weakness ; and 
though limited to a fortnight to prepare himself for 
what had occupied the attention of others during the 
whole term, and obliged on the six days of examina- 
tion to support himself by strong medicines, he per- 
severed in his purpose, and obtamed the object of his 
ambition : — " He was pronounced the first man of his 
year." But the honor was dearly purchased — life was 
the price he Was to pay. 

To repair hi^ shattered health, he now took a jour- 
ney to London, but the e£fect was not favorable to him. 
On his return to College, therefore, he was advised to 
relax a httle in his studies ; but how little he did in 
reality relax, will he apparent from the following mode 
in which he arranged the labors of, each day : — " Rise 
at half past five. Devotions and walk till seven. 
Chapel and breakfast till eight. Study and lecture 
till one. Four and a half clear reading. Walk, etc., 
and dinner, and Woollaston, and chapel, to six. Six 
to nine, reading, the hours nine to ten, devotions. Bed 
at ten." 


In the exercises of this year, he was highly sue- 
cessfiil. He was again pronounced the first at the 
great CoU^e examination, and one of the three best 
theme writers. He was set down as a medalist, and 
expected to take a senior Wrangler's degree. He ex- 
cited the highest hopes throughout the whole Uniyer- 
aty, and every honor seemed to be within his reach. 
He was flattered l)y the distinction conferred on him — 
his ambition prompted him to excel — and though his 
days were full of pain, and his nights sleepless and 
agitating, he still pursued his studies with increasing 

The consequences were such as might hare been 
anticipated — the little health left to him perceptibly 
declined, and he was sunk in mind, to the very depth 
of wretchedness. When the long vacation arrived, he 
again visited London ; but the kindness of his coUege, 
having provided him with a tutor during this interval, 
he neither relaxed from his studies, nor suffered him- 
self to enjoy the quiet of retirement, or his mother's 
home. On his return to college, therefore, he was in 
a worse state than when he left it. His frame was 
now totally shaken, and his mind appeared to be worn 
out. His great anxiety was to conceal his situation 
from his mother and brother, and while enduring 
agony, he was holding out to them hopes of amend- 
ment. His brother, however, was informed of his dan- 
ger by a friend, and hastened to Cambridge, but when 
he arrived he found Henry delirious. The unhappy 
youth recovered sufficiency to know him for a few 


moments; the next day he sank mto a stapor, and on 
Smiday, 19th of October, 1800, expired. It was the 
opinion of his physicians that if he had lived, his in- 
tellects would have been affected. He was bnried in 
All Saints' Church, Cambridge, where a monument, 
sculptured by Chantrey, has been erected to his mem- 
ory by Mr. Francis Booth, of Bostcm, in America. 

The following Imes evince his high attachment to 
his beloved mother, whose spirit was so congenial with 
his own : 


And eanst thon, mother, for a moment think 
That we, thy children, when old age shall shed 
Its blanching honors on thy weary head, 
Conld firom our best of duties ever shrink 1 
Sooner the son firom his high sphere should sink. 
Than we, ungrateful, leave thee in that day. 
To pine in solitude thy life away. 
Or shun thee, tottering on the grave's cold brink. 
Banish the thought I—where'er our steps may roam. 
O'er smiling plains, or wastes without a tree. 
Still win fond memoiy point our hearts to thee. 
And paint the pleasures x>f thy peaoeftd home ; 
While duty bids us all thy griefs assuage. 
And smooth the pillow of thy sinkmg age. 


Modern literary biography contains no account more 
intensely mteresting than the affecting records of the 
fires and writings of Lucretia and Margaret Davidson 


«*~two gifted American girls, sisters— wbose astonitli* 
hug gemuSy esdbibited in' early cMdhood, and whose 
sweet dispositioiis and youthfol piety lendered tibeir 
brief lives fiill of pleasing and profound instructioQ. 
Hie elder sister, Lticretia, was a remarkably precocious 
oUld, learning to read almost without any instruction ; 
and what was fax more remarkable, teaching hers^ 
to write before any of her family supposed her able to 
pen a letter. 8he learned to write, it seems, in order 
that she might put down her thoughts ; and at the 
age of six or seven, covered many sheets of paper with 
poetical compoeitioDs before any one suspected the na- 
ture of her private employment, or knew of her being 
able to use her pen. The loss of the missing writing 
paper, consumed by Lucretia, led to a discovery, which 
covered the modest, trembling child with confiision» 
but filled the heart of her fond and anxious mother 
with delight Every year from this early age was 
marked by great mental improvement, and a continu- 
anee of the faculty of composition — extraordinary m 
one so young— elegant poems full of fine thoughts, 
finely expressed, aboimding in affection, moral purity, 
and religious feeling — ^flowed from her pen in rich 
abmidance. The health of this gifted creature was 
very delicate, and probably the mind was too active 
for its earthly tenement At the age of seventeen, 
after a lingering illness, she died, leaving the remem- 
brance of her youthful piety and radiant genius, as a 
eODSolation to her bereaved family and friends. 
What renders the above account more remarkable^ 


k the fact, that, at the time Luoretia DaTidson died, 
there was an infant mster in the funily, named Mar- 
garety then not more than two and a half years old. 
This child, remarkable almost from l»rth for yivacity 
and mtelligence, seemed to inherit all her sister's geni- 
us, sanctified in a yet more peculiar manner by the 
subsequent knowledge of that sister's early death, and 
a constant listening to, and perusal of her writings. 
Margaret had a greater degree of precocity than was 
displayed even by Lucretia. Of her it might literally 
be said, "She lisped in numbers, for the numbers 
came." She also wrote on many graceful themes 
with a melody of versification and spiritual elevation 
of thought and feeling, that will ever render her name 
remarkable among the good and gifted of her country. 
The lives of these sweet sisters were parallels of each 
other ; alike in person, early development, similarity of 
taste and pursuits, and alike also in the brevity ci iJieir 
m<»tal career. Margaret had not attained quite to the 
age at which Lucretia died, when she also was called 
to resign life, and all its allurements, and opening pros- 
pects of usefulness and literary distinction. But fiiith 
triumphed over earthly longings and hwnan affections, 
enabling her to resign herself to the will of her heav- 
enly Father, of whose mercy in Christ Jesus she was 
fully assured. 

Such is a brief outline of the lives of these two lovely 
asters. Two of the most distinguished names in Amer- 
ican literature have thought it a labor of love to write 
their lives and edit thdr poems — ^Miss Sedgewiok has 

urcnomA ahd xaboahbt davimoh. IW 

presented the public niih the life of Lucretia, and 
more recently Washington Irving has written the life 
of Mai^garet. The inquiry naturally arises, What were 
the influences that aided in developing, and rightly di- 
recting, such extraordinary minds ? The genius of these 
Bweet sbters was the rich and gracious gift of Qod. 
Its training, development, and purity of aim, was the 
important work of their admirable mother, 

Mrs. lAargaret Davidson is the wife of a physiciaD, 
Dr. Oliver Davidson, a lover of science, and a man of 
inteliectual tastes. It scans that the delicacy of con- 
stitution, which both her daughters exhibited, was to 
be expected from the circumstance, that Mrs. Davidson 
was nearly always an invalid Yet, while possessmg 
existence on terms of frequent pain ismd suffering, this 
devoted mother made her sick-bed a hallowed shrine, 
where her children could receive constant instruction 
ut piety and patience, both by precept and example. 

F^ossessed of fine talents, warm sympathies, and a 
great love of the beautiful, both in nature and art, it is 
not wonderful that she should have sympathized in 
the pursuits of her gifted daughters — ^watched with 
pleased surprise the early development of their minds, 
and early instilled those principles of religion, without 
which genius is but a fatal gift to its possessor, and a 
learful power let loose upon society. Washingt<Hi 
Irriog says, in reference to her instruction of her daugh- 
ter Margaret^ — '' That it was one poetical mind minis- 
tering to another." 

There was much prudence and correct judgment 
^exhibited by Mrs. Davidson in the early management 


of her remarkable childreiL She did not aUow her 
own appreciation of their talents to lead her to Btima* 
late them unwisely, either by praise, or other injurioiiB 
excitements. She saw that to repress, in some cases, 
their ardor in the pursuit ci their studies, was absolute- 
ly necessary. Thus, Lucretia, during a long illness, 
was her mother's only attendant, and her great talents 
were very wisely not permitted to exempt her from 
the humbler duties that deTolve upon her sex and 
station. These temporary suspensions of her studies, 
so far from retarding her progress, only sent her to 
them with increased freshness and ardor ; and, while 
there cannot be a doubt that the activity of this sweet 
child's mind wore out her fragile frame, yet all that 
judicious maternal care could do to preserve this d^- 
cate plant was tried. And m Margaret*!;; case, warned 
by the early death of Lucretia, the utmost anxiety was 
manifested by Mrs. Davidson to prevent, if possible, 
the too early mental development of Margaret. With this 
ynew she was not taught to read early, and vmting im- 
plements were kept out of her way ; but nothing could 
damp or repress her genius; she composed solemn 
stanzas, during the severe storms that sometimes visit 
that climate, before she had ever read a line of poetry — 
observed all the beautiful phenomena of nature by 
which she was surrounded on the shores of Lake 
Champlam, and made it the subject of her early verae. 
It was found impossible to check this strong propen- 
sity of nature ; nevertheless, at a subsequent period, 
after Margaret had made considerable prqgress in her 
educaticm, symptons of weakness appearing that alann** 


ed the watchfiil mother, she eiierted her authonty, 
and made it a request that Maxgaret should lay aside 
the pen and books, aud devote her time to healthful 
exercise and recreation. This was a sore trial of obedi- 
ence ; but Margaret submitted to her mother's will, 
and persevered in the course prescribed, until it was 
found that her health actually suffered by it; and 
when the restriction was taken off, and she was allow- 
ed to return to her literary pursuits, her health for a 
season improved. 

Nothing was more beautiful in the character of Mrs. 
Davidson, than the resignation she evinced when snc- 
cessivelv bereaved, after long years of anxiety, of these 
extraordinary children. To lose such daughters was a 
more than ordinary trial ; particularly when it is re- 
membered that the fond mother was an invalid, as 
droopmg and fragile (though more tenacious of life) 
as her children. That she possessed a highly sensitive 
temperament, which must have deepened her anguish 
at the loss she sustained ; yet, though she mourned her 
bereavement with all the tenderness of a fond mother, 
she was enabled to look up to her heavenly Father with 
the piety of a Christian, and to acquiesce in His wise ar- 
rangements without a murmur, though with many tears. 

As soon as her health and spirits recovered from the 
shock inflicted by Margaret's death, she set herself to 
collect her daughter's poems, and select from them 
those most suited to meet the public eye. Appended 
to the beautiful sketch by Wasl^ington Irvmg of Mar- 
garet Davidson's life, they form a volume fitted to ap- 
pear beside the life and literary remains of Lucretia. 


The following beautiful lines from Lucretia to her 
mother are such a sweet epitome of maternal love, that 
they must find their way to every heart. 



Oh ! thoa, whose care sustained my infant years. 
And tanght my prattling lip each note of love ; 

Whose soothing Toioe breathed comfort to my fears. 
And roond my brow hope's br^htest garland woTe — 

To thee my lay is due, the simple song, 
Which nature gare me at life's opening day ; 

To thee these nide, these untaoght strains bekog. 
Whose heart indulgent will not spam my lay. 

Oh ! say, amid this wilderness of life. 

What bosom would have throbbed like thine for me 1 
Who would hare smiled responsive 1 Who, in grief. 

Would e'er have felt, and feeling, grieved like thee t 

Who would have guarded with a falcon eye 
Each trembling footstep, or each sport of fear f 

Who would have marked my bosom boonding high. 
And clasped me to her heart with love's bright tear 1 

Who would have hung around my aleepleflt ooodi, 
And fanned with anxious hand my burning brow t 

Who would have fondly pressed my fevered lip, 
In all the agony of love and woe I 

None but a mother — ^none but one like thee. 
Whose bloom had faded in the midnight watch ; 

Whose eye, for me, has lost its witchery. 
Whose form has felt disease's mildewed touch. 

Yes ! thou hast Ughted me to health and life, 
By the bright lustre of thy youthful bloom^ 
• Yes, thou hast wept so oft o'er every grief, 

Hiat woe hath traced thy brow with marks of gloon. 


Oh, tlun, to thee, Hob rade end gimple eoDg, 
Which breathes of thankfulness and love for thee; 

To thee, my mother, shall this lay belong. 
Whose life is spent in toil and oare for me. 

Soon after this lady became a mother, she studied with 
much interest most of the popular and practical works 
which treated of education, both in the French and 
EnglisH language, that she might be well informed <^ 
the nature of the new duties she was called to perform. 
Her favorite authors on this subject seem to have been 
Locke and Dr. Witherspoon. The object she had in 
view was to attain for her children a well-regulated 
mind, and a healthy constitution. To secure health <^ 
body, they were early accustomed to expose themselyes 
to all the varieties of their native climate. 

To favor the former object, they were taught to sub;- 
-Ject their passions to the control of reason and religion 
— ^to subdue their tempers — ^to practice self-denial — to 
endure disappomtment, and to resist temptations to 
pleasure ; above all, her children were the subject of 
prayer, even before they saw the light. With one ex- 
ception, she devoted them all to God in baptism, pub- 
licly in the midst of the congregation, rejoicing thus 
openly to declare her faith m the Christian religion, and 
her respect for all its institutions. Such a mother Med 
not early to impart to her beloved little ones the knowl- 
edge of the doctrines of the Gospel. She enjoined 


them by precept, bat most of all by her own pious ex- 
ample, to read a portion of the Holy Scriptures daily — 
to prize them as the standard of fioiUi and rule of action, 
as a message from God of eternal importance, to be 
believed, loved, and obeyed. Learning from this blessed 
book, that " foolishness is bound up in the heart of a 
child, but that the rod of correction shall drive it 
thence," she, on proper occasions, but always with 
judgment and discretion, sometimes with prayer, and 
often with tears, but never with anger, made a due use 
of the rod. 

As her children advanced m years, she carried her 
wms through a course of education, fitting them for 
entering college ; and with the assistance of a valued 
and accomplished friend, she conducted the seveial 
studies of her daughters at home. As mistress of her 
own family, she never omitted the duty of instructing 
ber domestics, by reading the Scriptures with them, 
and enga^g in prayer ; and on Sunday, in addition to 
h^ own family, the young slave children connected 
with them were also instructed by means of catecheti- 
cal lessons. In cases of temporary separation, deliv- 
«raiices, or other providences, or even misconduct, or 
quarrels, she had recourse with the parties concerned 
to a throne <^ grace. 

As a mother, she was moderate in urging her paren- 
tal rights, allowing her children every indulgence com- 
patible with their best interests ; participating in their 
sports — amusing their solitude — and dropping the ohar* 
acter pf the mother in that of the companion and frieiid. 


These obserratiionB will be fully illustrated ia thefal^ 
lowing extract* giyeo from one of her letters to Imx 
ekLest son : 

slumber Ulhy IfflO. 
Dear Dayid: 

I wrote to yoa not long ago» telling you of the de- 
parture oi my dear Miss Futerell. Her absence makes 
ererything desolate with me, and your sisters more than 
sympathize with me, for in addition to mine» they feel 
their own sorrow. I hare in them, howeyer, this c<a* 
solation, that, by every act of their Hves, they show how 
much they hare profited by her advice and example : 
never were parents more blessed than your father and 
I, m daughters; and I hope God will return seventy- 
fold into their bosoms the comfort they give to ounu 

Your time of vacation is drawing cm. I trust you 
are not losing your time for study, and that as you 
grow (dder, you are resisting every propensity to idler- 
ness or foUy of any kind. Tour judgment must be 
well informed. You have lived from infancy within 
the sound of good advice ; and although some dispo- 
sitions are restive under any advice that clashes witb 
ih^ present gratification, I flatter myself you have a 
more ingenuous disposition, and that no effort on the 
part of your par^its and friends, to make you wiser 
and better, will be lost upon you. 

Dr. Keith gave us, yesterday, an excellent sermon on 
these words: — "Who can understand his errors? 
Cleanse thou me from secret faults." We ought, dear 
child, to take great pains to understand our errors ; we 


bare, erery one, by nature, some secret error, some 
eonstitational defect or vice. In childhood, the advice 
or aathority of parents may restrain it ; still it is there. 
As we grow older, we must watch for onrselves, re- 
strain ourselves — ^look up to God for help, while we 
exercise such acts of self-denial as shall break the bias, 
and keep it from producing a vicious habit, which, alas ! 
may become too strong for us, and be our curse and 
our master as long as we live. Persons about your 
time of life are apt to think themselves very wise, and 
to pay very slender attention to the voice of their su- 
periors : this is a very great error ; as, by such con- 
duct, they not only deprive themselves of the experience 
of those older and wiser than themselves, but they ap- 
pear, and really are, very unlovely in their tempers to 
those who reprove or advise them, whether parents or 
others. At your tune of Qfe, every, false appearance 
of pleasure is taken for a reality, and the restraints of 
virtuous industry and hard study a burden too heavy 
to be borne. May God give you wisdom to understand 
your errors, and a manly resolution to resist every 
temptation to evil ; make you lovely in your temper, 
diligent in the pursuits of useful science, and enable 
you, by conciliatory and engaging manners, to make 
friends to yourself among the wise and good, wherever 
you go. 



Thb Bey. William Thorp was for many years a most 
useful and eminently pious minister of the Qospel, at 
Biistol. The home influences that developed his char- 
acter, and turned his mind toward religion, were very 
impressive and powerful : his own description furnishes 
a most affecting and deeply mteresling account of his 
admirable mother, to whom no other pen than his own 
could do equal justice. In a sermon preached at the 
Tabernacle, Moorfields, March 16th, 1828, on the sub- 
ject of the beneficial effects of affliction, from the 
words — "We know that all things work together for 
good to them that love God, to them who are the 
called according to his purpose'* — ^Bomans viii. 28 — 
the Bev. W. Thorp mtroduced the following tribute 
to his mother's memory, and bright example of that 
mother's faith. 

" The words of the text are doubtless intended for 
the common benefit of the Christian church ; but I 
have looked upon them, likewise, as a family heritage. 
It was the favorite text of my venerated father, who 
found in it consolation and support, in the course of a 
difficult and laborious ministry. It was no less dear 
to the heart of my mother, who used to quote it in 
her easy-chair, and on her pillow of rest. When the 
weight of affliction overcame her feelings in the hours 
of trial, then she used to say, ' Let me sit down and 
rest myself, for " we know tiiat aU things work togeth- 


er for good to them that love God, to them who are 
the called according to his purpose." ' My father was 
remoTed in the middle of his pious career, and in the 
vigor of his manhood, leaving behind him little of the 
goods of this earth, but leaving a large and uneduca* 
ted family. My mother was then confined in ch3d- 
bed, having been delivered the day before my fiath^ 
expired. The last words uttered by him to my mo(ih- 
er, in this distressing situation, were, ' Call the child 
Christiana.' * All things must work together for good 
to them that love God.' To make the measure full, it 
happened that all the rivers of the neighboriiood were 
overflowing at that season, causing on all sides incon- 
venience, damage, and distress. Contemplate, then, 
for a moment, I beseech you, this scene of domestic 
calamity! My father, the supporter of us all, dead! 
My mother confined m childbed, — a numerous family 
of little children clingmg roimd her, and the water a 
foot deep in the ground-floor of the home I Still she 
always aflbmed that the happiest season of her life 
was this season of calamity, in which she derived the 
ftillness of consolation from the words of our text : so 
that when, a few days after my father had been car- 
ried to his place of rest, our house was robbed of 
everything that could be borne away, and also of the 
last quarter's salary which my mother had recdved, — 
wben, then, having discovered our loss, my eldest sis- 
ter ran breathless into her mother's chamber, ezclaim- 
iag, * Mother, the thieves have stolen all we had in 
this world! will this also work for good?' TheChrish 


tian replied : 'Yes! for ''we know that all things work 
together for good to them that love God :" ' and the 
result justified her confidence." 

It is not surprising that such a bright example <^ 
piety and faith, in circumstances of such deep afflictioii, 
should have made a powerful impression on the maid 
of her son. And when we see him afterward a faith* 
fnl minister of Christ— diligent, and successful in his 
holy calling, and behold him the subject of many pain- 
ful trials and berearements, all borne with hallowed 
Christiaii resignation, we behold the result of such a 
mother's prayers and example, in the excellence and 
usefulness of her son. 


Janb and her sister spent a part of every day iriOi 
their father, rec^ving from him the rudiments of their 
education ; but a conmderable part with thdr motber, 
who, from the first, made her daughters her companions 
— treating them and conversmg with them as reasona- 
ble beings. They were accustomed to attend, and to 
asfflst her in every domestic engagement, learning at 
once the reason and the practice of all that was done. 
In the afternoon and evening, while employed by their 
mother's side, subjects of all kinds, within the range of 
their comprehension, were discussed. These conversa- 
tions were at mtervals relieved by singing hymns— a 
practice which tends^ insensibly, to blend all the best 


and happiest emotions of the inflBait heart with the lan- 
guage of piety. 

It was especially the practice of their mother, in her 
treatment of her children, to avoid everything like 
manoeuvring or mystery, as well as all unnecessary 
concealment of the reasons of her conduct towaid 
them. She confided in them as friends ; and at the 
earliest time at which such ideas could enter their 
minds, they were acquainted with then* father's affiurs ; 
so £eu-, at least, as was necessary to qualify them to 
sympathize in every care, and to induce them to adapt 
their own feelings and expectations to then* parent's 
means. This plan, moreover, preserved them, as far 
as children can be preserved, from the temptation to 
practice those petty artifices which delbase the mind, 
and benumb the conscience. 

As it formed the material part of Jane's intellectual 
education, I may here mention a custom adopted by 
her mother a year or two before th^ time of which I 
am now speakmg — ^that of reading aloud at every meal. 
Her hearing being so far defective as to prevent her 
from freely taking part in conversation, she had re- 
course to a book, that the social hours might not be 
seasons of silence. By constant use, she acquired the 
habit of taking her food with little interruption to the 
reading ; and only on occasions of extreme ill health was 
it ever wholly suspended. This practice, while it was a 
solace and delight to herself, and in some degree en- 
abled her to forget her misfortune in being shut out 
from free intercourse with her family — ^to them proved. 

wmuUM Mmam Ain> hh movhss. 177 

Sreetij and indoeedy, higUy be&efidal, espedalljr in 
ptefentmg nnprofitaUe eonv^rsation, in chetisliiiig « 
Hteraiy taste, and in imparting, without labor or coat 
of time, a great mass of information: — ^and the choiee 
of books was always made with a view to the pleaaive 
and advantage of the yoimger members of the fiunily. 


Tbm present age is pre-eminently distinguished by its 
MJamonaTy spirit. The Chiistian church, rousmg ilself 
from the slumber of ages, has in the nineteenth cen- 
tury yielded obedience to the divine commission, " Go 
ye therefore and teach all nations." As this labor of 
We is the most difficult that the Christian can under- 
time, it follows that the character of the Christian mis- 
sionary often exhibits faith and moral courage in their 
purest and noblest forms. Among the many distin- 
guished heroes of the cross who have visited dang^- 
ous climes, and more dangerous savage tribes of the 
human family, no name ranks higher than that of Wil- 
liam Enibb. It is a pleasing and encouraging fiaet 
that his childhood was passed and his habits formed 
under the hallowed influence of maternal piety. 

Mr. Enibb was bom at Eettering, in Northampton- 
Aire, on the I7th of September, 1808. His mother 
was a woman of very extraordinary piety and intelli- 
gence. She was unwearied m implanting the seeds of 
divine truth in his infiant mukL His prayers and UMe 

178 wiuxuf KinBB Aia> hu mothsb. 

hjmiiB Trere lisped at her knee, and she was carefid to 
ingtroct him, not only in the words, but the meaning 
of the sweet lessons that she taught him. It was the 
lot of this distinguished woman to have -two sons en- 
gage in the arduous labors of a missionary life. Her 
eldest son, Thomas, was the companion of William, at 
the Sunday-school of Mr. Toller's meetmg-house, at 
Kettering. Thomas went out, early in life, to Jamaica, 
and was soon called to receive the reward of his labors 
in the mansions of eternal bliss. William, at the age 
of fourteen, was aj^renticed to a printer, with whom 
he removed to Bristol, where he gave such evidence of 
the good effects of his pious mother's early instruction, 
that he was received into the church at Broadmead, 
being baptized by the venerable Dr. Ryland. When 
the intelligence of his brother Thomas' death reached 
England, William offered to supply his place. He was 
accepted by the Baptist Missionary Society, and forth- 
with set sail for Jamaica. The state of society in Ja- 
miuca, at the time William Enibb commenced his la- 
bors there, was depraved beyond description. Slavery, 
in all its moral and physical horrors, polluted alike the 
oppressed and their oppressors. With a zeal that 
never tired, and a courage that never quailed, Enibb 
denounced the fearful system^ and though the subject 
of much persecution, his labors never flagged until he 
had the unspeakable happiness of beholding the fetters 
of the oppressed negro broken. His success as an am- 
bassador of the cross was wonderful. Myriads learned 
of him the way of salvation, and the faithful and affeo- 


tiooate colored people among whom be labored felt 
for theur devoted pastor an attacbment and gratitude^ 
and exhibited as a.chureb a zeal and liberality, wbich 
few EuropeaQ cburcbes could parallel, and none could 

In bis speeches, Mr. Enibb was often known to re- 
rert to the period of his childhood, and to the lessons 
of pious lore his admirable mother had taught him. 
Ko one who had enjoyed the privilege of hearing Wil- 
liam Einbb speak or preach, could fail to be impressed 
with the earnest manliness of his style, the command- 
ing dignity of his person, the fearless energy of his 
sentiments, and the all-pervading tone of pure evangel- 
ical piety that he evinced. And when news recently 
reached England that the full tones of that fine voice 
were silent in the grave, that in the vigor of meridian 
manhood that noble head was laid low m the tomb, 
it required all the fortitude that religion inspires to 
prevent the rebellious wish, that his span had been 
lengthened, from neang in the heart. But while this 
was the first feeling in the mmds of others, no shadow 
of gloom or discontent dimmed the brightness of the 
last hours of William Koibb. He died of fever, after 
a short illness, in the 42nd year of his age. His last 
sermon was from the words, " The glorious Ooepel of 
the blessed God, which was committed to my trust." 
— irnm. i. 11. "A trust " whose injunctions he had 
fulfilled with a more than ordinary degree of faithful- 
ness. There is a beautiful incident recorded of his 
death-bed ; a brother, who was watching by him, le-^ 
peated Cowper's lines : 

160 wiuuM mn iom ma 

" Behind • ftonniag PlrafldMiot, 
He hides a smilixig fkoe." 

Tbe dying Christian exclaimed, " Oh yea, broiher, it ia 
ao> but what blisa to aee the doud disperaed, and the 
amile of God resting upon meT The sense of this 
divine, approving smile, so irradiated the dark yaUey 
of the shadow of death, that the dying chamber of 
William Enibb was emphatically the vestibale (A beay* 
en. Oh, wh^n such a life, crowned by such a death* 
are viewed as the results (under the divine blessing) of 
maternal influence rightly exerted, we would pobt ev- 
ery mother to the bright example, and say, ** Go thou 
and do likewise." We cannot conclude this article 
without presenting a most delightful exhibition of 

knibb's filial affbotion. 

''After one (A the jubilee services at Kettering, when 
the multitude had been thrilled with his eloquence, 
Enibb found me talking with friends, and, placing hia 
ann within mine, said, ' Stovel, I want you to go with 
me to my mother's grave — will you go V * With all 
my heart,' was the reply ; and with another fiiend, we 
walked together up the street, toward the church-yard. 
Aa we passed al(mg, he stopped suddenly where the 
main roads cross in the town, and directed my attenr 
tion to a wmdow on a second floor, looking down the 
street to where we stood. 'There,' he said, 'do you 
see that window with the muslm blind?' I repUedt 
' Tes.' ' Well,' he said, ' my mother lived there when 
Iteftlier. We had parted, and I had come down inU» 


the street here to go to Jamacia, to take charge of my 
brother's school, who was dead. She put her head 
out of the window, and called after me : " William ! 
WilHam ! mind, William, I had rather hear that you 
had perished in jthe sea, than that you had dishonored 
the society you go to serve." I never forgot those 
words — they were written on my heart.' We passed 
on, talking of the effects which such a sentiment had 
in fostering his courage and zeal at different periods of 
his trial and labor. As we ascended the rismg path 
which slopes down the side into the street, when 
drawing near to the gate of the church-yard, he stop- 
ped and sdd, ' How unchanged the thmgs are ! That 
stone stands at the side of the path just as it did when 
I used to strike my marbles against it See, they used 
to bound and roll down there.' On entering the grave- 
yard, he became filled with awe, and walking up to 
his mother's grave, he stood as if in the act of worship, 
and after a while said, ' There she lies. See, there's 
her name. She died Jan. 25, 1835. She was such a 
mother ! I wish my children were here, Stovel, to 
sprinkle some flowers on her grave.' His expressions 
were calm, and at considerable intervals. My attention 
was fixed on him ; and the thing which struck me most 
forcibly, was the fact, that in minds which are suite^ to 
great and daring actions, the main spring lies in these 
sensibilities of the heart, which are kindled and aug- 
mented by domestic piety." — StoveVs Funeral Sermon. 



It was the lot of the pious and talented subject of our 
present sketch to lose his estimable mother during his 
early childhood, before he could appreciate ^ther the 
▼alue of her character, or the magnitude of his loss. 
Still, it is an evidence of the tenacity of early recoUec- 
tionSy and the influence of example, even in the first 
years of life, that the character of Theophilus Lessey 
-was a transcript of that of his mother. Mrs. Lessey 
suffered much from deHcate healthy and also from do- 
mestic bereavements. Her husband, the Bev. The- 
ophilus Lessey, was a minister m the Wesleyan Con- 
nexion ; their union subsisted seventeen years, and thej 
had several children, many of whom, after much suf- 
fering, they were called to resign. The childhood of 
the yoimg Theophilus was marked by extreme dehcac j 
of frame and constitution ; and the frequent illness of 
his devoted mother, with the circumstances of his in- 
fant brother's sickness and death, could not fail to 
make a deep impression on the mind of a thoughtful, 
observant child. This impression was deepened by 
the pious conversation of his mother, which led his 
young mmd to think of Him in whose hands are the 
issues of life. 

Soon after he had completed his eighth year, he was 
deprived by death of his estimable mother, a loss wbicli 
he always deplored ; and many years after, when he 
was writing a memoir of his father's valuable life, he 


tnys of the mothef lie so early lost, ** She was emi- 
nently pious, and wholly devoted to God ; I may be 
allowed to say that, although my recollection of her 
is faint, and at the early age at which it pleased God 
to deprive me of so dear and valued a parent, I was 
not capable of estiznating the great worth of her char- 
acter, yet I shall never forget those exercises of mater- 
nal piety which tenderly interested my infant heart. 
Frequently has she taken my sister and myself to her, 
and talked to us in the most affecting manner on the 
nature and importance of religion. Such conversations 
generally terminated in fervent prayer in our behalf. 

" Her friends, also, have often testified to me the high 
veneration in which she was held by all with whom 
she was intimately acquainted. But she was the child 
of affliction, and called to glorify God rather by pa- 
tient submission than active exertion." 

Such was the mother whose piety, like a ray of lights 
irradiated the mind of her child, and lingered there un- 
til, by the blessing of God, that mind, with all the en- 
thusiasm of youth, kindled with a fervor of piety that 
made him a most valuable and successful preacher of 
the everlastmg Gospel of Christ. He ultimately rose 
to great eminence in the Wesleyan Connexion, filling 
the important office of President of the Conference, in 
the year 1839. The Conference over which he pre- 
sided was remarkable for the solemn and devout cele- 
bration of the Centenary of Wesleyan Methodism, and 
it was on this account, especially, one of the most 
memorable ever known. 

184 BBooixionovs of a ifOTSm. 

Li the midst c^ tbe labors of tli& faithful Benrant of 
Ood, he was arrested by a severe attack of pulmonaiy 
dnease, which, though at first it partially yielded to 
medical treatment, was unsubdued, and after a long 
period of sufifering, borne with tbe utmost Christiati 
rangnation, his life was brought somewhat suddenly 
to a close, on Thursday, lOUi <^ June, 1841, in the 
^y-fifth year ci his age, and the thirty-third ai his 

It is an affiacting fact, that, <m the day of his death, 
a Tery few hours prior to that ey«it, he mentioned his 
mother, and even then expressed his deep s^ise of 
that early loss. So true it is that first impressicms 
are very often last impressions. How necessary, then, 
that they should be right impressions ! 


Thb days of my childhood have long since passed 
away ; but the remembrance of them, though some- 
times mingled with sadness, is often soothing and re* 
freshing to my spirit. The recollections of an h<moied, 
intelligent, affectionate, and pious mother I love most 
to cherish, because they not only delight, but elevate 
and purify my heart. From the earliest dawnings of 
intellect and affection, my attachment to her was 
strong, and her influence unbounded. Nor did they 
diminish with my advancing childhood and yot^h ; for 

Biooxiisonoirs of a uotwol. 1M 

they were sustained %iid streii^heiied by a tendentess, 
a pradence, and a pety, the most uniform and watch- 
f«L Even now I seem, at times, to feel the gentle 
movements of my kind and anxious mother, as, amid 
the shiyerjng cold of a northern winter, she came night 
alter night to my lowly bed, long after my eyes were 
closed in sleep, and scarcely waked me from my slum- 
ber, while she carefully pressed the warm coyering 
around my feet and limbs. 

Nor can I soon forget the hnpression oft made upon 
my childish heart, when the door of the sitting-room 
opened upon me, while engaged with my morning's 
book or play, and I looked up and saw my mother 
enter, with her Bible in her hands, and her face still 
wet with her tears. I needed none to tellme what had 
been her employment, or whence she came. More 
than once, in the pursuit of her I loved, I had followed 
her to the place of her retirement, found her upon her 
knees, and listened to her tones of fervent tenderness, 
whik, with many tears, she prayed God to have mercy 
iqion me and keep me from evil, and to bless those 
she loved. On such occasions — ^kneeling or standing 
beside my praying mother — ^I had a strange but aflfect* 
ing sense of a present Ood, who heard her prayer, 
and thought and felt that I could not, must not grieve 
or disobey such a tender, godly mother. 

When some ten or eleven years of my life had rolled 
quietly away, I was thrown, at school, into the compa- 
ny of boys who did not fear to take God's name hi 
vam, and learned to ndtate thdr examples so far as to 

186 BBOOiUEonoira of a Moanm. 

me improper, if not prc^uie language. Mj erer 
^waAchM mother soon leanied my danger and my on, 
and calUng me privately to a seat by her side, warned 
and reproved me with a grief and t^demess which I 
oonld not resist She reminded me that she had ded- 
icated me to God in baptism, and even before my birth 
had devoted me to his service ; that I was the Lord's 
child. Punishment I conld, perhaps, have borne, but 
her words and her tears broke my heart, though proud 
and rebellious. She made me feel that I had sinned 
against a good and holy God, and that my vnckedneas 
was greatly increased, because of the vows which w^e 
upon me, and because she had so often consecrated me 
to God. I felt ashamed and distressed that I had wound- 
ed a heart so pious and so affectionate, and probably 
while memory lasts I shall never forget the time and the 
place, the ezpressiye countenance, and the earnest man- 
ner of my mother. 

From my earliest childhood I had been taught, and 
in some degree accustomed, to pray, and now began 
seriously to seek the salvation of my soul. In my 
mother I had confidence, and from her I sought coun- 
sel. As she lay upon her sick-bed she turned to me 
and said, with a seriousness of manner, and with a tone 
of emotion which impressed the words upon my inmost 
soul, "Strive, my son, agonise, to enter m at the 
strait gate." Before my thirteenth year I was per- 
mitted, with others of my own age, to approach the 
table of the Lord, and took upon myself those baptis- 
mal vows of consecration to God, which had been often 
present to my heart and conscience. 


My mind had been sometimes powerfully impressed 
by the fervor and tenderness of my mother's prayers, 
when she assembled her children around the family 
altar, and supplicated the protection and blessmg of 
God upon us and our absent father. Now I was more 
deeply affected when on a similar occasion my mother 
' turned to me and said, " Henceforth, my son, we shall 
expect you to lead the devotions of the family in your 
father's absence." In the following year I left the 
home of my childhood, to pursue my studies in a dis- 
tant city, and was afterward only an occasional in- 
mate in my father's house. But my mother's influence, 
the remembrance of her example and prayers, still fol- 
lowed me, as a guardian angel, to preserve me from 
the many dangers and temptations which were around 
my path. 

Durmg one of my college vacations I was called to 
take charge of my father's school. After two or three 
days I was somewhat tried by the misconduct of sev- 
eral boys but little younger than myself, and at dinner 
gave vent to my feelings by the remark, " I do not 
know but I shall have to kill some of those boys." 
My mother turned upon me her full, dark eyes, kindled 
and yet softened by the emotions of her soul, and twice 
repeating my name, with a look and a tone strongly 
expressive of surprise and grief, conveyed to my heart 
gently, but effectually, the deserved rebuke. I soon 
sought my chamber, there to weep over my impatient 
spirit, and to ask forgiveness for my sin agamst God, 
and my unkindness to my mother. 

1M sscouAonom of a mmatt. 

During the jean that have rince glided swiftl j away, 
I bare ever felt myBelf more indebted to mj mother 
than to any other hmnan being for whatever I hayeat- 
tamed or enjoyed. The remembrance of her instroc- 
tk»8 and reproofs sttll excites me to be consistent, more 
happy, as a disciple and a minister of Jesus Christ, and 
I praise €k>d that she yet lives to bless me with her 
coonsel, her example, and her prayers. Nor has the 
Messing been confined to myself; all my brothers and 
aisten, except my yomigest brother, have become pious, 
aa we tmst, in very early life. May very many who 
read the '< Mothers of the Wise and Oood,'' through 
ha influence, and by the abundant grace of Ckxl, be- 
eome aueh bleaafaigs to their children. 

wKcouBMkmoan to pbatoig vonoBa. )W 


L ENoouiueBiasT to PRATxse Motbib8.'-*W3« 
1mm ^— • was the only sarviTiiig Boa of a pknu notk- 
#r» He was a boy of good parts, but of an uninoni'* 
kiDg and untoward disposition. This oecaakmed wmk 
anxiety to his mother, even in his childhood ; an4» aa 
9iay be readily imagined, her aiuiety inereased with 
his growing years. 

Having finished his education, he came to reside a| 
hwie, and was soon after apjnentieed to a respectable 
pvcrfeasion. Now the mother's trial became gieatar 
than ever. He paid htUe or no respect to her, and 
showed a particular aversion to everything like seiioiis 
religicm. The death of two asters was fresh in his roo- 
cdlection, and yet he behaved most unkindly to the 
only one who survived. His conduct to his master 
and to his fellow-apprentices was equally unamiable, 
and even profane swearing was his fnquent practice. 
At this time, his mother hardly ever durst address an 
admonition to him, prayer was almost her only hope 
and refuge. As one fault after another obtruded it- 
self on her notice, she set apart additiiiMial seasons for 
special prayer on his behalf : till at length her strength 
and sjMrits were so exhausted with the contiawd es« 
ciliBin^> that she almost felt as if she must give uf 


the effort She had already resigned four dear ch3- 
dren into the arms of death, in the full assurance that 
they had gone to be with Christ, which was far better 
than remaining with their parents. But this om occu- 
pied her last waking thoughts at night, and her first in 
the morning ; and respecting him, she could truly say, 
that she had " sorrow in her heart daily." He stilly 
however, attended the preaching of the Gospel ; and 
on one occasion sat by her side, while she listened with 
inexpressible emotions to a sermon on the final judg- 
ment, in which her minister warned the impenitent, 
that even their pious relations, who had wept and 
prayed for them, would acquiesce in their condemna- 
tion. • 

With a heayy heart the mother returned home, and 
as soon as she had taken off her bonnet, threw her- 
self on her knees, and once more commended her be- 
loved child to the mercy and grace of God. She says, 
" her prayer was more nearly allied to the expressioii 
of despair, than the exercise of faith." But she was 
soon to experience that the Lord's thoughts were not 
as her thoughts — 

« Just in the last dutressing hour. 
The Lord displays deliyermg power." 

On coming out of her room, she was greeted by a 
voice of unusual mildness, saying, '' Mother, Mr. 

M has preached the best sermon to-day th&t he 

ever did in his life." She replied, '< Ah ! William, H 
is difficult to say which is a minister's best sermon; 


perhaps it is, that our ears have been opened to hear 

Nothing more passed at that time, but during the 
succeeding days, his behavior was kind and pleasant. 
On the Saturday evening, he said, " I think we have 

had a happy week, mother ; I hope Mr. M wiU 

have another good sermon to-morrow." What he 
heard on that Sabbath, however, did not call forth any 
particular remark. But on the Sabbath following, a 
stranger preached, whose sermon was much blessed to 
William ; and from that time he began to speak freely 
to his mother on spiritual things, and to manifest a 
spirit of constant inquiry. To use her own expresdcm, 
"she now found a son, and her daughter found a 
brother." They were so happy together, that she 
thought it was too much for earth, and would not last. 
He was remarkable for his regular attention to the 
duties of the closet Even when company were with 
them in an evening, he would retire for half an hour 
after tea, and on the very last morning that dawned 
<m him in this world, his father having asked him to 
do something in the garden, he replied, '' I must go 
up stairs for half an hour first, and then I will, fa- 
ther." He was received into the church with great 
satisfaction; and twice his mother had the delight 
ci sitting down with him at the Lord's table. Many 
a mother looked at them with a wistful eye, and 
wished such a privilege ; but two days after the 
second of these hallowed occasions, his spirit was sud- 
denly called to mingle in the worship of the upper 

19S BIT. B. HOOl 

MMtofliy. He was not permitted to gire a dyiag tes- 
timony of his faith, but his living evidence of a ohaiige 
of heart had for two years been most satisfactory. £Gs 
death unsealed the lips of many who had silently ad- 
milled his chanicter ; and his master in particular, who 
had the best opportunities of judging, and who is not 
a professor of religion, gave a most unequivocal testi- 
mony to the remarkable change in his conduct. His 
pastor was absent at the time he joined the church, 
and longed to return that he might acknowledge him 
a younger brother in the Lord, and direct his youthful 
eneigies into channels of Christian activity. But, as if 
the joy of his restcM^tion to his family and flock needed 
something to qualify it, he found these pleasing antici- 
pations disappcxnted. 

Hub hasty sketch is intended, like his own brief his- 
tory, to teach Christian mothers to ^' be patient in trib- 
dation, and instant in prayer." 

II. Bev. Richard Hooker. — ^This ^fannent divine 
was deeply indebted to the early teachings of a pious 
mother. He was distinguished from childhood for his 
diligence, and Hie propriety of his conduct. During 
his youth he was dangerously ill — ^when his afflicted 
mother ceased not earnestly to beg his life of God, as 
Monica, the mother of Augustine did, that he might 
become a true Christian. Her prayers were answered, 
which her son in after life would often mention with 
great gratitude. '< And has often prayed that he might 
never live to occasion any sorrow to so good a mother. 

HBNBT. — BAILVr. 198 

<rf whom he would often say he loved her so dearly, 
that he would endeavor to be good, even as much for 
hens as for his own sake." 

III. Rev. Philip Hekby. — This eminent servant of 
God was the son of a pious mother who " feared QoA 
above many." She looked weU to the ways of her 
household, prayed with them daily, catechised her 
children, and taught them the knowledge of the Lord 
betimes. He often mentioned, with thankfulness to 
God, his great happiness in having such a mother, 
who was to him as Lois and Eunice were to Timothy, 
acquainting him with the Scriptures in his childhood. 
There appeared in him early inclinations both to learn- 
ing and piety, so that his mother devoted him in his 
tender years to the service of God in the work of the 
ministry. This excellent mother died before her son 
was quite fourteen years old, but her influence over 
him remained throughout life, and was ever prompting 
him to be faithful unto death, that he might inherit 
the crown of everlasting life. 

lY. Rev. John Bailet. — This useful minister of 
the Gospel in Ireland and New England, was bom 
Feb. 25tii, 1643, near Blackburn, in Lancashire. His 
pious mother dedicated him, even before he was bom, 
to the service of God. " From a child, he knew the 
Holy Scriptures, and was by them made wise unto sal- 
vation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus." He 
gave evidence of his gracious state, by his habitual fear 
of God, and the practice of daily prayer. This was 

attended with one very remarkable and happy effect 

194 OaOIM. — ^BSLL. 

HSfl folber was a wicked man, and his motlier took lier 
son, whfle he was yet a cMd, and ci^ling the family 
together, caused him to pray for them. His father, 
hearing how the child prayed with the family, was so 
struck with conviction, that it proved the b^inning of 
Us conversion to Qod. This pioos youth> at the age 
of 22, entered on the work of the mini^ay at Chester, 
and continued, in the distant lands to which he was 
called, faithful unto the end. 

V. Rev. Anthony Grolb. — Anthony Crole was a 
native oi Kincardineshire, Scotland. At the age of 
seven years he was left to the charge oi a widowed 
mo^er, who took care that he should enjoy the piiv- 
ikge of a reli^ous education. This excellent woman 
discharged the trust that devolved upon her with great 
faithfulness and ability. She watched for the souk of 
h^ children as one that must give an account. Her 
instruction and example made a lasting impression on 
Anthony's mind, and he would frequently mention tl^ 
familiar way in which she would encourage her chil- 
dren to seek the God of their fathers, saying, " God 
loves to hear Httle children pray ;" and from this early 
period prayer was never omitted by her son, teho lived 
to be a useful and honored minister of the Gospel of 

YI. Rbv. Gsorob B&ll. — This pious and us^ul 
man was a native of North Britain. The risings of 
early depravity and folly were checked in him by the 
vnwearied eare and watchfulness of a mother possess- 
ing singidar pety and prudence, and to the close of 


kis Me, he luecL to speak of kis angular obligttioAs to 
the tnuning of his mother, -who, though she died nhils 
ha was yet young,, had sown seed in hnmiiid tfaaAsulH 
sequently brought forth abundantly. 

YII. Rsv. Dr. Baicctel Akkeslet. — ^lliis dislin- 
gushed man, who was the father of Mrs. Wesley, was 
bom at Eenilworlh, in 1620. He was an only chM, 
and his father dying whai he was only four years old, 
has education devolred on his pious mother, who was 
eminently qualified fofr the task, bringing him up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord. The effect of her 
traimng so decidedly turned his mind to serious things, 
that he formed the resolution, if God should spare him 
until he reached manhood, to devote himself to His 
service by preaching the everlasting Gospel. Though 
this resolve was made at a very early age, he never 
swerved from it, and proved the sincerity of his desire 
by becoming a very eminent and zealous servant ci 

VIII. Mas. Lucy Hutchinson. — ^This justly cele- 
brated woman, in her interesting biography of her ad- 
mirable husband, says, after celebrating the land of 
her birth, " The next blessing I have to consider in 
my nativity is my parents, both of them pious instmct- 
ozB of my youth, both by precept and example ; aad 
it pleased God, by the teachings of my pious mother, 
and the sermons she carried me to, that I was con- 
vinced the knowledge of God was the most excellent 
stady, and his service the most worthy employment of 
nry nfe. 

IX. Bey. W. B. Cadooan. — ^It was the pnvilege 
of this excellent minister to haye, like Timotliy, a 
mother and grandmother who were . hoth piously dis- 
posed, and who instructed him from his infancy in the 
Holy Scriptures. And late in life, he bore testimony 
to the value of maternal instructions, by sajring, '' I am 
persuaded, from the impressions made by a pious 
mother on my own mind, when a child, that very few 
parents sufficiently aim, or sufficiently hope in th^ re- 
ligious endeavors with their children." 

X. Rev. Thomas IJppendinb. — ^This holy and con- 
sistent servant of God was bom at Walls^, in Staf- 
fordshire, and was the seventh of a family of eleven 
children, most of whom died young. His father was 
prejudiced against religion; but his mother, on the 
contrary, was a most pious and amiable woman, pos- 
sessing great strength of mind and good sense. She 
strove by all means to counteract the evil tendency of 
her husband's example, by bestowing great pains on 
the religious education of her children. She had her 
reward. Those of her children who were spared to 
her became pious members of society ; and her son 
Thomas was from his youth distinguished for his seri- 
ousness, and lived to adorn the Gospel of his Saviour, 
by a useful life as a Christian minister, and a trium- 
phant death. 

XL Rev. James Davis Knowlbs. — (Professor ia 
the Baptist Theological Institution, Newton, Massachu- 
setts.) — It was the peculiar privilege of this faithfiil 

ORAKX. — ^DATISS. 1^7 

nmuster to be the son of pious parents. He was bom 
at Providence, in the United States, in 1798. At the 
age of twelve years, he was left by the death of his 
father to the future charge of his mother, who was 
qualified by her eminent piety to instruct and admon- 
ish him. Very early he began to display very great 
intellectual superiority, contributing to local periodicals 
at an early age. His mother, by her sympathy, en- 
couraged his literary pursuits, and lived to see him 
become one of the most zealous and talented nunisters 
of his time. 

Xn. Rev. James C. Crane. — Secretary of the 
United Foreign Missionary Society, was bom in Mor- 
ristown, United States, January 11th, 1794. The 
faithful instructions of his mother made a deep impres- 
sion upon him at the tender age of six years. He was 
subsequently apprenticed in New York, where amidst 
temptations he fell into vicious habits ; but in conse- 
quence of the lessons of his mother, he experienced 
such severe rebukes of conscience, that he was con- 
strained to seek Divine mercy as a repentant sinner, and 
dedicated his life to the propagation of the Gospel as a 
missionary among the tribes of the North American In- 
dians, in which work he became eminently distinguished. 

XIV. Rev. Samuel Davies. — This distinguished 
man, who was President of Princeton College, New 
Jersey, was bom November 3, 1724. He was an only 
eon; a daughter had been bom to his parents five 
years before his birth. His mother, an eminent Chris- 


IM purou. 

tiw, had earnestly beaoughi him of heaven, and b^ 
iMTiag him to be given in answer to pray^, she named 
him Samuel. This excellent wc»nan took upon hensetf 
the task of teaching her son to read, as there was no 
aohool in the neighborhood, and her efforts were r»* 
warded by the extraordinary proficiency of her pupB. 
In early hfe, his mind was not very deeply impressed 
with religious convictions ; but at length the pray^s 
of his pious mother w^e answered ; he became saTingly 
oonvarted to Christ, and commeneed laboring in tha 
ministry at the age of 22^ Bmg an emment seholar, 
and very active in his duties, his labors obtained him 
the evident blessing of God, and the approbati<m of 
man. Few men did more in their day and generation 
to promote the extension of the Saviour's kingdom in 
the world. 

XV. Thomas Pringlk, Esq. — This eminent philan- 
thropist, whose name deserves to be held in veneratioa 
as a benefactor of the human race, was bom araiaik- 
lau, Roxburghshire, January 5, 1789. His childhood 
was passed amid the pastoral and secluded scenery of 
a farm-house. An accident in infancy caused him to 
be afflicted with lameness, which continued for life. 
The watchful care of a wise and judicious mother waia 
exerted to prevent his bemg spoiled by the over in- 
dulgence of his nurse, who, compassionating his mia- 
fortune, was ignorantly adding to it by trying to sfKuI 
hia temper by excessive indulgence. It was his mt- 
speakable misfortune to lose his fidthf ul motha* at ike 

FOBIUU-^inEyiNS. \$$ 

Miiy age of six years, but he retained a viyid : 
linnee of her to the end of his life. In a letter writ- 
ten many years after to a friend, he thus expresses 
himself : " I recollect my mother distinctly, and partic- 
vbrly all the circnmstances connected with the last 
days of her life. How can I ever forget the last kind 
and solemn words, the farewell smile, the partbg em* 
biaeeof my mother — of such a mother?" Doubtless 
it was in answer to the prayers and dying faith of this 
devoted woman that her son became the honored in* 
stroment of so much good to his fellow-creatures in 
Scotland, South Africa, and m England; and that 
the cause of the slave was ever near his heart, and 
that his whole life exhibited a pattern of love to Ood 
and love to man. 

XVI. Rbv. Luke Foster. — This faithful minister 
of the Gospel was bom at Glauton, Northumberland, 
on the 25th May, 1801. His mother died while he 
was ^t a youth ; but her lessons in his childhood, her 
valuabib instructions in life, and her solemn counsels 
m death, were indelibly impressed on his heart, and 
were among the principal means of his subsequent 
conversion to God. Blackburn and Saffron Walden 
were successively the scenes of his ministerial labors. 
W& life and death were alike honorable to the religion 
that he taught. 

XYII. Rev. Dr. Nbvin's Mother.— His mother, 
whose maiden name was Mary Hubbard, was an esli- 
mMd woman, and veiy attentive to the reUgms 

800 KjriLL. 

iDBtniction of her chOdren, teacliing tbem, besides other 
things, that excellent summaiy of Christiaii doctrine, the 
Westminster Assembly's Catechism. The benefits of 
,this instruction were with thankfulness acknowledged bj 
her youngest son, during all his public life. This lady 
died in the year 1820. Twelve years after her death, 
he says, '' The year 1820 is mournful m the retrospect. 
Our dear mother left us that year. But it was acocmi- 
ing to the course of nature that our mother should go 
bef(»e us to eternity, and she sank to the grave by a 
gradual decline, and full oi years, having served hw 
generation by the will of God." 

XVIII. Rbv. Riohasd Knill's Mothbr. — ^I hare 
a vivid recollection of the effect of maternal influence. 
My honored mother was a religious woman, and she 
watched over and instructed me, as pious mothers are 
accustomed to do. Alas ! I often forgot, her admoni^ 
tions ; but in my most thoughtless days, I never lost 
the impressions which her holy example had made on 
my mind. 

After spending a large portion of my life in foreign 
lands, I returned again to visit my native village. Both 
my parents died while I was in Russia, and their house 
is now occupied by my brother. The furniture remains 
just the same as when I was a boy ; and at night I was 
accommodated with the same bed in which I had often 
slept before ; but my busy thoughts would not let me 
sleep — ^I was thinkmg how God had led me through the 
journey of life. At last, the light of the morning darted 


through the little window, and then my eye caught a 
sight of the spot where my sainted mother, forty 
years before, took me by the hand and said, " Come, 
my dear, kneel down with me, and I will go to prayer." 

This completely overcame me : — I seemed to hear 
the very tones of her voice — I recollected some of her 
expressions, and I burst into tears, and arose from my 
bed, and fell upon my knees, just on the spot where 
my mother kneeled, and thanked God that I had once 
a praying mother. And, oh ! if every parent could 
feel what I felt then, I am sure they would pray with 
their children, as well as pray for them. 

Chiratian mothers ! think of this, and then thmk of 
the milUons of your own sex who are the mere slaves of 
men who never pray. Remember, it is only where 
the Lord Jesus Christ is known and loved, that women 
are exalted to their proper place in society ; and re- 
member, also, it is only Christian missionaries and their 
wives, and a few teachers of schools, who have at- 
tempted to raise them. They have attempted it, and 
God has smiled upon then- undertaking. But they 
need help — let them have it. 

XIX. Andrew Jackson and his Mother. — ^The de- 
eeaaed Ex-President had no half-way character. *' He 
was known and read of all. He was a man to secure 
ardent friends and bitter enemies. He could disguise 
nothing. Simulation was a thing he abhorred as much 
by the instinct of his nature, as by the decision of hia 

%Qgi JTAOXSOir. 

In ft Gonreraation with the writer of tbis article^ some 
years sinoe, Gen. J. spoke of his mother in a maniwr 
that eonyinced me, that his mother never ceased to ei- 
ortasecret power over him, until his heart was brou|^t 
into reconciliation with God. She had three, sons, 
Hugh, Kobert, and Andrew, the youngest, whose fattK 
er died not long after his birth, little prescient ci the 
future fame of his poor boy, whom his mother, with 
the scanty patrimony, could scarcely educate. But he 
said that she inculcated religious truth upon his inmd. 
The leading doctrines of the Bible were taught him in 
the form of question and answer, as contained in the 
Westamnster Catechism. In those truths, he expressed 
his decided behef . But their savmg power does not 
seem to have been felt for more than half a century 
afterward. I think he was about seventy when he 
united with the church. Few of his friends will proba- 
bly claim for him the possession of piety while he Was 
the occupant of the Presidential chair, however muA 
in such a perilous position its sovere^ virtue is needed 
to guide the judgment, repress the ambition, chasten 
the language, and subdue the passions of the conspic- 
uous incumbent of that coveted seat. In retirement, 
it was different ; there he could reflect more deeply, 
feel more tenderly, and choose more deliberately. One 
can hardly help contrasting the cokL and heartless 
sneers of Jefferson at the religion of Christ, with the 
full, warm, and enthusiastic expressions of Jackson, in 
the all-suffieient maits of the atoning Redeemer." 

The old man was chu'acteristic to the last. What- 

' he resolved to do, he was never aahamed of. Of 
the Bible, he said — '* lipoid that sacred vcdume I rest 
M7 hope ios eteraal salvation, through the merits and 
the Uood of our blessed Lord and Saviour, Jesus 
Christ." Let all his admirers mark this. Not alone 
in his unbelief did Jefferson live and die. He drew 
after him many that, in the blindness of thek dehisic^ 
looked to him as well for a creed in religion as in pol- 
kicB. Will the example and iafluence oC Jackson be 
eq[«ally strong on the belief of the devoted admirerSy 
who are charmed with his military and civic qualities ? 

XX. Eafbolpb's Mothsr. — ^The mother of Joha 
Randolph taught his infant lips to pray. This iaet 
he never could forget. It influenced his whole life, 
and saved him horn the dangers of infidelity. He 
was (me day speaking on the subject of infidehty, to 
which he had. been exposed by hia intercourse with 
men of mfidel principles, to a distinguished Southern 
gentleman, and used this remarkable language : — 

** I beheve I should have been swept away by the 
flood of French infidehty, if it had not been for one 
thiag — ^the remembrance of the time when my sainted 
mother used to make me kneel by her side, taking 
my httle hands folded in hers, and cause me to re* 
peat the Lord's Prayer." 

Every mother who reads this anecdote, may read an 
important practical lesson, which she ought to put to 
use in the case of her own children. No mother can 
ever know how great and salutary will be the influence 
OB her little sod» on all his future life in this world, and 


in the world to come, of teaching him to pray. How 
appropriate/ how beautiful the conduct of that mother, 
who teaches her little son to kneel by her side as he 
retires to rest, to lift up his young heart to the God that 
made him, and on whose care and mercy he must rely 
in all the future years of his existence ! If all mothers 
would teach their children to pray, and pray with and 
for them, how soon would this world's aspect be 
changed, and bud and blossom as the rose ! And the 
mother who does not teach her children to pray, has 
no good ground to believe that she shall ever meet her 
children in heaven, or that she will ever reach there 
herself. Prayerless mothers never find admittance to 

XXI. Ths Motsbr of thb Rev. George Bbbchsb. 
— ^The humble, weary, and anxious toils of the nursery 
sometimes need glimpses of the future, to impart to 
them their true dignity and value. Let any mother 
who feels that she is of small value, and that her duties 
and cares are of little account, ponder over such inci- 
dents as these. 

On the east end of Long Island, in one of tiie most 
secluded spots in this country (America), more than 
thirty years ago, a mother, whose rare intellectual and 
moral endowments were known to but few, made this 
simple record : 

" This morning I rose very early to pray for my 
children ; and especially that my sons may be minis- 
ters and missionaries of Jesus Christ." 

A number of years after, a friend who was present^ 


thus describes this mother's dying hour : " Owing to 
extreme weakness, her mind wandered, and her coa" 
yersation was broken ; but as she entered the valley 
of the shadow of death, her soul lighted up and gilded 
its darkness. She made a feelmg and most appropri- 
ate prayer, and told her husband that her yiews and 
anticipations had been such, that she could scarcely 
sustain them ; and that if they had been increased, 
she should have been overwhelmed ; that her Saviour 
had blessed her with constant peace, and that through 
all her sickness, she had never prayed for life. She 
dedicated her five sons to God as ministers and mis- 
sionaries of Jesus Christ, and said that her greatest 
desire was, that her children might be trained up for 

''She spoke with joy of the advancement of the 
kingdom of Christ, and of the glorious day now usher- 
ing in. She attempted to spei^ to her children, but 
was so exhausted, and their cries and sobs were such, 
that she could say but little. Her husband then 
made a prayer, in which he gave her back to God, and 
dedicated all they held in common to him. She then 
fell into a sweet sleep, from which she awoke inheav- 

The prayers of this mother have been answered. All 
her eight children have been '' trained up for God." 
Her five sons are all ** ministers and missionaries of 
Jesus Christ." And the late Rev. George Beecher is 
the first of her of&pring whom she has welcomed to 



ZSn. A WiBS Mother. — The motiiOT of a famfly 
was married to an infidel who made a jest of religion ia 
the presence ci his own children ; jet she succeeded 
in hringing them all up in the fear, of the Lord. I 
one day asked her how she had preserved them from 
the iniliMnce ci a fother whose sentiments were so 
openly opposed to her own. This was her answer : 
" Because to the authority of a father I did not op- 
pose the authority of a mother, hut that of God. 
From thar earliest years my children have always seen 
^ Bible upon my table. This holy book has consti- 
tuted the whole of their religious instruction. I was 
ffilent that I might allow it to speak. Did they pro- 
pose a question ? Did they commit any fault? Did 
they perform any good action ? I opened the Wdk, 
and the Bible answered, reproved, or encouraged them. 
The constant reading of the Scriptures has alone 
wrought the prodigy which surprises you." 

XXm. A Mother's Praters. — ^In a seaport town 
of New England lived a pious mother of six daugh- 
ters. At the age of sixty, she had been for ouiny 
years subject to disease and infirmily, which confined 
her to her house, and almost to her room. In an in- 
terview one day with a friend, she said — " I had not 
for many years enjoyed the pleasure of going to the 
house of God with his people, and taking sweet coun- 
sd with them. But I have another source of grief 
greater tiian th]s-~one that weighs down my spirits 
day and night ! while disease and pain bear my body 

▲ mothxb's pratxbs. tOT 

toward the grave." Her friend tenderly inquired the 
cause of this peculiar grief. She replied, ** I have six 
daughters ; two are married and live near me, and four 
are with me ; but not one of them gives any evidence 
of piety. I am alone. I have no one for a Christian 
companion. O that even one of them were pious, 
that I might walk alone no longer." Such was ber 
language. Tet she seemed submissive to the will of 
God, whatever it might be, having strong confidence, 
that in his own good time, he would answer her daily 
prayers, and in a way which would best advance bn- 

Not long after the above interview, a revival of 
reh^on commenced in the town in which she lived. 
Among the first subjects of this work were four of ho* 
daughters. A fifth was soon added to their number, 
but the other, the eldest, remained unmoved.* One 
day one of the young converts proposed to her moth- 
er and her converted alsters to observe a day of fast- 
ing and prayer for the sister who remained so insenn- 
ble. The agreement was made, and a day observed. 
Of this the subject of their prayers had no knowledge. 
But on the same day, while engaged in her domestic 
concerns at home, her mind was solemnly arrested ; 
and she was soon added to the Christian sisterhood. 

The praying mother litcd a few years to enjoy their 
Christian society. They t^urrounded her dying bed, 
received her last blesenng, and unitedly commended 
her spirit to God. 


XKIY, The Power of a Mother. — A youth who 
had been piously educated, had long grieved his pa- 
rents by his misconduct. Reproof, expostulation, cor- 
rection, had been repeatedly tried without success ; and 
he had arrived at an age when parents can no longer 
exercise absolute control. He left home under cir- 
cumstances truly distressing to his parents ; but which 
seemed to produce no effect upon his mind. Not long 
aftei-ward, he received a parcel from home. As he ex- 
amined its various contents, and found one proof after 
another of a mother's tender, con»derate care for the 
health and comfort of one so undeserving ; and found, 
too, a letter fraught with kindness and affection, and 
without one word of upbraiding, the rebel's heart melt- 
ed within him. He fell on his knees and blessed God 
for giving him such a mother — ^wept bitterly over his 
own ingratitude and disobedience — ^implored pardon 
through the blood of atonement, and sought the 
strength of Divine grace to enable him to be their 
comfort whose grief he had long been. The expres- 
sions of genuine penitence that accompanied his ac- 
knowledgment of that commimication, led the parents 
to give utterance to their feelings of joy and gratitude 
in the language of the Jews of old : — " The Lord hath 
done great things for us ; whereof we are glad. They 
that sow in tears shall reap in joy." Christian moth- 
ers, amidst all your trials, cherish the like encourage- 
ments ; for still the word is on record and in force : 
" He that goeth forth weeping, bearing precious seed, 
shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his 
sheayes with him.'' — ^Psa. czzvi. 



** The floundfl that &U on mortal ear, 
As dew drops pare at eren. 
That Boothe the breast, or start the tear, 
, Are mother, home, and hearen. 

A mother— sweetest name on earth ! 

We lisp it on the knee. 
And idolize its sacred worth 

In manhood's infancy. 

A home— that paradise belOw, 

Of sunshine and of flowers. 
Where hallowed joys perennial flow. 

By oahn sequestered bowers. 

And hearen— the port of endless peaoe. 

The haren of the soul. 
When life's corroding care shall oease, 

Like sweeping wares to roU. 

O weep not, then, though cruel time 

The chain of lore has riren ; 
To erery link, in yonder clime. 

Reunion shall be giren. 

O fan they not on mortal ear 

As dew drops pure at eren. 
To soothe the breast or start the tear— 

A mother, home, and hearen V* 

XXY . A Rembmbrakcb of a Mother's Influence^ 
— ^Wbat a mercy to be early inducted into the kingdom 
of grace ! How happy are they who choose Christ for 
their portion while yoxmg, and devote to God the first 
fruits of their lives ! How good to grow up into Chrst 
our living head, and to hold fast the beginning of our 
confidence steadfast to the end !. How pleasant to take 
a retrospect of such a life, and how blessed the pros- 


peet which opens to the view of aUsaeb! Would that 
the joung would wisely consider, and make the happ j 

" I must, at least, advert to the instrumentalities 
which it pleased God to employ, by which to bnng 
me to hunself. I am a child of many prayers. I was 
blest with a pious mother, who had lecuned to pray 
before I was bom ; a duty which she loved and prac- 
ticed to the end of her life. The recollections of that 
mother — ^that devout and praying mother — awaken a 
reminiscence of the past, which now warms my poor 
heart, and touches the tenderest chords that vibrate 
to my sympathies. Mother ! What name on earth 
that is so fraught with everything that is touching, ten- 
der, and endearing ? What multitudes of events clus- 
ter around that name, which act upon the finer feelings 
of the soul and soften the asperity oi the human heart ! 
Mother ! is a word that has made the iron heart of the 
most unfeelmg and cruel yield, and brought back the 
sympathies of childhood, and annihilated, for the time, 
the hardening influence of those rugged scenes of life 
through which men, in the more mature periods of thdr 
earthly existence, often pass. ' Rome is saved, but 
your son is lost,* was once the language of a son mov- 
ed by the maternal influence of a mother's presence 
and a mother's tears. 

"The thoughts of a mother's prayers, andt^ereeel* 
lections of her many ;mous admonitions, often i^ecked 
me m my wildest career of sm, though she knewitBel. 
I coKiceded my feeKngs from her. I efteft felt Hk^ 

A iMvra»'a nrmnwof. til 

dm/pmAi wliea I put on {he appearance of the ffe^Mk 
gayety. And I have often wondered that her p^tioMK^ 
did not beeome worn out with me. Butno — Imn was 
%nother^8 Iov« ! At length I yielded, and haateaed 
hone to teU her what God had done for my poor soiiL 
II waa a meeting thait even poetry would fail to de* 
aeiibe. She wept and rejoiced over me. We bowed 
aiowid the fiunily altar together, and poured out omr 
aeob in prayer aad praise. 0, it waa a aoene that aa- 
gala must hAve rejoiiced over. 

Mothers* he frkhful. Pon't get discouraged. Pray 
fbr your eiuldren, and do not forget to talk to them : 
year words will settle down ia their hearts. They never 
can, they never will forget tb^n* They may appear 
not to heed what you say ; they may put on an appear- 
ance of thoughtlessness and levity, which look as 
though your words vrere disregarded ; but persevere — 
those words are there, and never will be forgotten : but 
may be called up in years to come when you are dead 
aad gone, and like seed cast m the eartili, germinate 
and produce fruit that shall flourish in inunortality. 

^ My own dear mother is dead ; but, though dead, yet 
sha speaks. She lived, however, to see the fruit of her 
labors, and so may you. My mother lived to hear me 
piaach the Gospel The parting scene I shall neyer 
fMTget, when I bade her adieu to go out into the vine* 
yard of my Xiord. *I always hoped,' said she, 'to 
have you hone with me, to comfort and support me 
in my d^dining years, but the Lord baa oalled^ and I 
submit. Go, my son, and be faithful^ and tlM. 


Lard be with thee and bless thee/ and she turned her' 
£Me to the wall and wept. 

** A few days before she departed, she had an impres- 
avm that she would soon finish her course. She went 
to the door and called my father, and as he came into 
the house, she burst into a flood of tears, and said, ' I 

shall never see my son S again.' My sister was 

called, and a charge given to her — ' I am going in a 
few days,' was her language, ' and I wish you to make 
arrangements for my funeral. My grave-clothes are 
in such a drawer," &c. In about twenty-four hours 
she was taken with a chilL ' This is the messenger^ 
said she, and in three days she closed her eyes in death, 
in great peace. Her last words were, ' Tell all my 
children to meet me in heaven !' 

" My mother ! when I learned that thou wast dead. 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed 1 
HoyerM thy spirit o'er ihj sorrowing son V* 

XXVII. A Fact for Mothers.— The following 
&ct, which the writer obtamed from a member of the 
family to which it belongs, and who is a worthy min- 
ister of the Gospel, strikingly illustrates and confirms 
the declaration of God to Eli, " Them that honor me, 
I will honor." The matron who is the heroine of this 
short but interesting story was neither wealthy nor 
learned ; but she was one that feared God with all her 
house, bringmg up her children in the nurture and ad- 
monition of the Lord. And as she honored God, so 
God honored her with long life, and numerous de- 


In the district of Beaufort, South Carolma, XT. 8., 
- one of the most affecting scenes' was witnessed that 

• probably ever occurred. The lady m question, at the 
age of seyentj-siz, determined once more to enjoy the 
society of all her children and grandchildren then liv- 
ing, and accordingly requested them to spend a day 
with her. The interview was most affecting, and was 
conducted just as we should suppose piety and the re- 
lation sustained by the parties would dictate. She ac- 
knowledged God in this, as well as in every other way. 
Her eldest son, who is a minister of the Gospel in the 

• Baptist denomination, commenced the exercises of the 
day, by reading the Scriptures and prayer. The whole 
family then jomed in a song of praise to the Giver of 
every good and perfect gift. This service was conclud- 
ed by a suitable exhortation from the same person. 
ISghty-five of her regular descendants were present. 
Forty-four children and grandchildren, arrived at ma- 
turity, sat at the same table at dinner. Of that nimiber, 
forty-three professed faith in Jesus Christ ; of the four 
surviving sons of this excellent lady, two were preach- 
ers of the Gospel, and the other two deacons in the 
Baptist church. 

Two of her grandsons were also ministers of the 
same church. When the day was drawing to a close, 
the matron called her numerous children around her, 
gave them each salutary advice and counsel, and be- 
stowed upon all her partmg blessing. The day was 
closed by her yoimgest son, with exercises similar to 
those with which it commenced. 


Mn. fived eight yean after thb eTent^ leorii^, 

at her death, one hundred and fifteen Imeal descend- 
ant8» in which large nnmher not a swearer nor dnmk- 
aird is to be found. 

Now who can estimate all the blessings which w31 
aocrue to the human family^ £rom the pietj and pm- 
denee of this one family? 

MThat may we not hope from the four ministera ? 

XXIX. RsT. Dr. Waugh km bib Mothbr.-^ 
Few names of modem times will be more affecti(»ate- 
ly and gratefully remembered than that of Dr. Wau^, 
tiie respected minister of the Secession Church, WeHs 
street, one of the founders of the London Missionaiy 
Society, and a man whose influence and labors, for 
more than forty years, were devoted to all the great 
and beneyolent instituticms of his day. It is evident 
that the formation of his character is distinctly tracea- 
ble to maternal influence. 

Concerning his mother, Dr. Waugh has left the fol- 
lowing account : — " Piety and meekness, and the ten- 
derest regard for the happiness of her children, formed 
the outline of her character. Bom of eminently jpoos 
parents, Alexander Johnstone, farmer in East Gordon, 
and Elizabeth Waugh, her mind at an early period 
was formed to the love of goodness, llirough life she 
maintained the character of a godly, modest, and iaof- 
fennve woman. Her devotions were regular and far- 
Tent : the law of kindness to all was on her lips ; but 
toward her children her affection was unoommonly 


ttaongf and her Teligioiis principles directed Ber affec* 
tion into the path of tender solicitude about their «te* 
nal welfare. By prayer, by exhortation, by example, 
and by many tears, did she study to adTanoe our 
knowledge of the true God, and Jesus Ohrist ivhom ke 
haA sent. She had herself experienced the sweetness 
of unaffected godliness, and was greatly concerned ^t 
her children might also taste and see that the Lord is 

** Few men have attained to high emmence, either in 
science or religion, who have not expressed deep-felt 
gratitude for the example, and counsels, and prayers 
of an affectionate and pious mother ; and in the case of 
Dr. Waugh, this grateful feeling was strikingly mani- 
fested. It were injustice to her memory not to record 
most prominently the reverential affection with which 
he ever spoke of the character of his mother. It was 
his delight to breathe into the ears of his own children 
the story of her piety and kindness ; to her he looked 
back, even at the age of threescore years and ten, with 
aU the humility and fondness of a child ; and when, 
nearly forty years after her death, he heard the sum- 
mons issued that was to gather him to his fathers, his 
filial tenderness, as will be seen at the closing account 
of his life, even then prompted the wish, that his pillow 
could have been softened by the hand of his mother, 
and his heart refreshed and strengthened by her pray- 
ers! — ^thus recommending on his death-bed the per- 
fonnaoce of that duty to which he was ever so anxious 


to direct the attention of the youngs — 'Honor thy 
father and thy mother.' 

*' The laudable exertions of this excellent parent in the 
religions education of her children, were followed by a 
rich recompense of reward. With a mind constituted 
like hers, she tasted the sweetest of all pleasures, in 
beholding her three children give satis&ctoiy evidence 
of fearing God from thdr youth." 



Mt mother's name ! it hath the powor 
To oheer, at onoe, my saddest hour ; 
The Tision of my mother's form 
Methinks might quell griefs wildest stoim. 

It will be endless joy to me. 
If I again that form shall see — 
Sorrow and pain shall both be o'er. 
If I regain her side once more. 

I was a little, thoughtless child. 
When last she looked on me and smiled. 
And when they took me from her side. 
My April tears by deep were dried. 

Others may wander far away 
From hemes a mother's smiles make gay» 
And sicken with the yearnings Tain, 
To look upon her face again ; 

Yet if, perchance, they meet once more. 
The freshness of their yonth is o'er. 
And she their love hath pined to see. 
Is passing from the household tree. 

Or, if not thus, harsh thonghts wiU rise 
To loosen e'en the holiest ties ; 
A random word on either part. 
May fill with grief the loving heart. 


But oh, my mother, when we meet, 
Say what ean mar our union sweet 1 
What elond shall darken in the eyes 
That gase abroad on Paradise 1 

No grief-traoed lines on either faoe 
Shall sadden in that first embrace ; 
Bnt, beaming both with lore's own light, 
Shall make the air around ns bright. 

Mother, there is another form 
Escaped from life and sorrow's storm ; 
Tis she who gave the lored one birth, 
Now dearest to thy child on earth. 

I loT6 her memory for his sake. 
And often when the stars awake 
I sit in rilence by his side. 
To hear how, like a saint, she died ! 

Say, are ye sisters in one band 1 
Perchance, e*en side by side ye stand ! 
With rays of equal glory crowned ; 
Harps of the same melodious sound. 

Yet could I look upon ye so, 
Methinks, at once, my heart would know 
Which was the dearest one to me. 
The watcher of my infancy. 

Tis all a fancy— yet I deem. 
Thine eyes would more intensely beam. 
Thy lip would wear a lovelier smile, 
Gaiing upon thy child the while. 

A mother's lore would light thy face, 
And lend thy form a softer grace ; 
Thy Toioe have cadence more divine — 
Nay, e'en thy robes more brightly shine. 

Sweet spirit ! shall it ever be 
That I may dwell again with thee 1 
O, Death shall wear an angel's < 
If he conduct me to thine aims ! 





Nov long age I mw thet, 

Boaii4iiig AlonsBo fine. 

Thy little friend by thee. 
Bat now thou'rt with the dead. 

Foad voids weMapokan 4hea» 

Fend looki were oMt oAihea ; 
Bok now thou art at rest. 
Not on thy mother's breast. 
Not on thy father's knee. 

Yma^ dwelkr of the sky, 

Thy home is far above ; 
Now in thy Shepherd's arms, 
Thon'rt safe frx>m all alarms^ 

Safe with the sonroe of lo?e. 

Thy mother weeps for thee ; 

The Saviour says she may ; 
But if thou oouldst impart 
Soiiie word to cheer her hearty 

What wonldst thou say 1 

Oh ! it is wen with me, mother ! 

In the onoormpted land. 
Where hang the fadeless leaveSf 
From the nation's healing trees 

{9eethy Uttle Bearie stand. 

Mother! *tis well with me ; 

When waking on thy bed« 
When mmdng thoughts by day. 
That win not pass away, 

BMsember— I'm not dead. 

Mother ! 'tis weU with me; 
For though my bo^y lis 

's uuns. ^3l0 

Down IB A gnagy mest^ 
The part thou didst lore best 
Can nerer^iievvr die. 

Mother ! 'tis well with me ; 

1 join the angel banA ; 
I prsiBe m^' Sbepherd'-king 
In strains I conld not sipg, 

Down in your mortal land. 

Mother! 'tis well with me, 
Thy lamb untaskM— untried— 

Tlie fight was fbi^ for «e, 

PVB wen the vietery. 

And I will welcome thee 
Among the sanctified. 


ZXZII. 1^ GiULTTDMOTasR^tf Death.— As I ims 
wttiqg, says an American writec, at my doer, «oe of 
the unusually lovely evenk^ with which we hare 
been favored this spring, watching the phyf ulnen «of 
ny two little children, who were running through the 
walks of the garden, and now and then stopfiaig to 
gsither a sweet-scented purple, or white vidbt, wMi 
which the whole air was perfumed, I saw at a liMe 
distance the carriage of a dear sad intimate frieMi, 
which quickly diove to the door, and my friend i%bt- 
ed. I noticed nothing peculiar in his demeans, until he 
drew my Ht^le girl toward him, and with a aokom 
manner, said, " Lizzie, your grandmother is dead ; you 
will never see her." ''' Dead ?* I exclmmed ; "^ have 
you a letter?'' "Yes;" and, as he turned to hand 
ma the letter, I saw the look of utter despc mdMWiy , 
and fiU that hehad^kxAsk mothw. 


That mother and that son were eqnaQj devoted to 
each other. He was the youngest of six children. 
They had been for years separated, and he had bright 
anticipations of seeing her m a few short weeks, and 
presenting his two little cherished ones whom she had 
80 often heard of, but never seen. Alas ! alas ! these 
anticipations are all blighted now ; and, Lizzie, your 
dear grandmother is dead ; you will never see her, still 
rings in my ears as when I first heard it. 

But the aged mother was a Christian ; and the let- 
ter says, "her reason was clear during her whole 
sickness ; not a murmur did she utter, but was anxious 
to depart" And, doubtless, long ere this, she has be- 
held "the King m his beauty," and been introduced 
to scenes of glory, where even the cherubim, so long 
accustomed to celestial visions, veil th^ir faces. What 
now to her seems the pilgrimage of threescore years 
and ten? She has entered eternity. What to her 
the sorrows and afflictions which once grieved her? 
" Not worthy to be compared with the glory now reveal- 
ed." With holy rapture, she bows before the throne, 

, and adores the Trimty. I think I see her, not as once 
I saw her, clothed in sable robes, and mourning that 
death had entered her household. No ; death has at 

. last proved her friend, separated the mortal from the 
immortal, and ushered her mto the felicities of heaven. 
There, clothed in a white robe, with a crown upon her 

. brow, a harp in her hand, unfading youth in her coun- 

. tenance, and the fullness of joy in her heart, she looks to 
the completion of time upon earth, as the perf ecticm of 


her existence, in eternity, in heaven. Then, at the 
sound of the Archangel's trumpet, that friend which 
so long had enshrined her spirit, and heen the servant 
of her will, that body, purified, ennobled, immortalized, 
will rush once more to her companionship, and they 
two, being one, shall " dwell forever with the Lord." 

The resurrection of the body, the immortality of the 
soul, the divinity, the atonement, the intercession of 
Christ, the perpetuity of happiness — what elevating — 
what glorious doctrines are these ! A wonderful des- 
tiny is ours ; — entering the world the most helpless of 
all earthly beings, progressing, step by step, until we 
become but '' httle lower than the angels," reaching 
an elevation superior to that of any created intelli- 

Does that sainted mother now regret having given 
her lifetime to her Maker ? Does she wish she had 
lived the life of the moralist, and enjoyed some of the 
pleasures of sin for a season ? If a blush of shame 
can bum upon the countenances of the inhabitants of 
heaven, it is when they think of the inexhaustible love 
of God toward them, and their unaccountable ingrat- 

The lamp of the moralist may serve to light his steps 
as far as a sick-bed, but we may rest assured, so soon 
as death appears, even in the distance, its flame will 
weaken and then expu-e ; there will be naught to di- 
rect his path through the " dark valley and the shadow 
of death," but the lightnings of Divine wrath, the glar- 
ings of the lake that burneth. 

2M TBI xonoE jx m otossf. 

The Ckrislaui's paihway through th6 daiic Talky ia 
fint cheered by the dawnings of the Sun of Kghteouh 
nan; the farther he advancea, tiie plaianr becomes tbe 
passage, aad the more dazzling the brilliancy, imtil at 
length he enters heayen, wha« there is *' no need of 
the sun; tor the glory of God doth lighten if' 


years since, a fine young man, the only son of hk 
mother, and she a widow, on becoming of age and re^ 
oeiving his patrimony, entered into company, and in* 
dxdged in the dissipation of genteel society. Her 
wwtchfol eye saw his danger, pointed out its tendency 
to mia body and soul, and used erery aj^^mndity pa^ 
suadon, and entreaty in vain. One day, she learned 
he was to dme with a large and joyful party, and she 
^ent the forenoon in persuading him to relinquish ll» 
hot an in vain. << Mother, I will go I" ''Then, John, 
I will retire to my closet, and pcay fcnr you till I sea 
yomr &ce agun.'' He went to the party, but could 
find no enjoyment; the thought of his mother, being 
on her knees wrestling with God in prayer for him, 
formed such a contrast to the scene before him, that 
hesHppedaway — foimd his mother in the act of pray- 
er—knelt down by her — ^fell on her neck — and from 
thai day became tiie delight of his pious mother — a 
brand plucked from the burning 1 A idigious paieflnEfefa 
prajMR are acUom <^ied in tain. 

BisTH-DAT ymamm, 228 


BT n . p. WI&LB. 

MybirUi-^y! Oh, beloyed moOier 1 
My heart is with thee o'er the mm 1 

I did not think to coiint another 
Before I wept upon thy knees— 

Before this BoroU of absent years 

Was blotted with thy streaming teacs. 

My own I do not save to slMflk— 

I weep— albeit here alone— 
As if I hung vpon thy neek. 

As if thy lips were on my ow n -* 
As if this full, sad heart of mine 
Were beating closely upon thine. 

Four weaiy yean I how hn^ she Mur f 

What light is in those tender ^yes t 
What traee of time has tonehed the brosr 

Whose look is borrowed of the Bkis» 
That listen to her nightly prayer ? 
How is she changed, sinee he was tfaon 

Who sleeps iqwn her heart alw»y^ 
Whose nune upon her lip is wam. 

For whom the ni|^t seems made te pray— 
For i^om she wakes to pray at mon» 
Whose sight is dim— whose heart-strings itli^ 
Who weeps those tears— to think of isr / 

I know not if my mother's eyes 

Would find me changed in other things : 
IVe wandered beneath many skies. 

And tasted many bitter springs. 
And many leaves, once fiur and gay. 
From youth's full flower have dropped away— 

But as these looser leayes depart^ 
The lessened flower gets near the oore. 

And when deserted quite, the heart 
Takes closer what was dear of yore. 
And leans to those who lored it first— 
The sonshine and the dew by which its bud waa i 

224 Bnera-BAT vnuns. 

Detf motlier ! dort tboa lore me yet 1 

Am I remembered in my home 1 
Wlien those I love for Joy are met. 

Does some one wish that I wonld oome 1 
Thou dott ! lam beloved of thee — 

Bat as the schoolboy numbers o'er 
Night after night the Pleiades, 

And finds the stars he found before ; 
As tons the maiden oft her token. 

As oonnta the miser oft his gold. 
So, till life's " silver ooid is broken," 

Wonld I of thy dear love be toldr^ 
My heart is foU— mine eyes are wet- 
Dear mother ! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet *! 

Oh 1 when the hour to meet again 

Creeps onr^and, speeding o'er the sea. 
My heart takes up its lengthen'd ehain. 

And, link by link, draws nearer thee— 
When land is hailed, and from the shore 

Gomes off the blessed breath of home. 
With firagranoe from my mother's door 

Of flowers forgotten when I oome — 
When port is gained, and, slowly now. 

The old fiuuliar paths are past. 
And entering, nnoonsoions how, 

I gaie npon thy face at last. 
And ran to thee, all faint and weak— 
And feel thy tears upon my cheek — 

Oh ! if my heart break not with joy. 
The light of heaven will fairer seem. 

And I shall grow once more a boy. 
And ! mother !— 't will be like a dream 

That we were parted thus for years. 

And, once that we have dried our tears. 
How will the days seem long and bright. 

To meet thee always with the mom. 
And hear thy blessing eveiy night— 

Thy « dearest," thy « first-bom"- 
And be no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn ! 

THKty Ifr MOTHDL 225 


<* Mother, they say the stars are bright. 
And the broad heavens are blue— 
I dream of them by day and night. 
And think them all like you. 

I cannot tooch the distant skies. 

The stars ne'er speak to m»— 
Yet their sweet images arise, 

And blend with thoughts of thM. 

I know not why, bnt oA I dreaa 

Of the fitr land of bliss; 
And when I hear thy foioe, I dMtt 

That beaten ki ia:e to tUi. 

When my sad heart t6 thine ii preMed, 

My foOies are forgiren. 
Sweet pleasure warms my beating br^ttft. 

And this I say is heaven. 

O, mother, will the God above 

Forgive my faults like thee 1 
Will he bestow sueh cave and low 

On a blind thing like me 1 . 

' Bear mother, leave me not tlone ! 

Go with me when I die — 
Lead thy bUnd daughter to the thron*. 
And stay in yonder sky." 


** I MISS thee, my mother ! Thy image is stfll 

The deepest imptessed on my heart. 
And the tablet so faithful in death must be ehill 

Ere a line of that image depart. 
Tlion wert torn from my side when I treasured thee moft. 

When my reason eould measure thy worth ; 
When I knew bnt too weU that the idol I'd kft 

Gonld be never repilaeed upon earth. 


I min thee, 1117 motlMr, in oireles of j<7, ^ 

Where I've mingled with mptnroiu lest ; 
For how dight ia the tonoh that will eerre to destroy 

All the faiiy web spun in my breast ! 
Some melody sweet may be floating around — 

Tis a ballad I learnt at thy knee ; 
Some strain may be played, and I shrink firom the sound. 

For my fingers oft wake it for thee. 
I miss thee, my mother ; when yonng health has fled. 

And I sink in the languor of pain. 
Where, where is the arm that once pillowed my head. 

And the ear that onoe heard me complain 1 
Other hands may support, gentle accents may fisU — 

For the fond and the true are yet mine ; 
I'to a blessing for each ; I am grateful to all- 
Bat whose oare can be soothing as thine 1 
I miss thee, my mother ; in summer's fair day. 

When I rest in the ivy-wreath bower. 
When I hang thy pet linnet's cage high on the spray. 

Or gaie on thy foyorite flower. 
There's the brightest grayel-path where 1 played by thy side. 

When time had scarce wrinkled thy brow. 
Where I carefully led thee with worshiping pride, 

When thy scanty locks gathered the snow. 
I miss thee, my mother ! Oh, when do I not 1 

Though I know 'twas the wisdom of Hearen 
That the deepest shade fell on my sunniest spot. 

And such tie of devotion was riven ; 
For when thou wert with me my soul was below, 

I was chained to the world I then trod ; 
My affections, my thoughts, were all earth-bound ; but now 

They have followed thy spirit to God !" 




Wbkp, weep, let all our kindred weep, 

Onr parent gone, our pattern fled. 
The object of our oare to keep. 

Of lore and duty, oold and dead ' 

UNI8. 22t 

Tet what is dead 1 *T!8 bat the dost. 

The vehiole, the tent, the shell ; 
She as a burden, 'from her thnut, 

When Boar'd her soul with Christ to dwell :— 
To dwell, where long her wish had been, 

To know the bliss perfection gives. 
To see Him, whom she loved unseen. 

Who for her died, and ever lives ; 
And as she listens to the voioe. 

Which oomforts earth, and gladdens heaven. 
Feel how celestials can rejoice. 

While thanks and praise to Him are given. 
Comit o'er the weeks, and days, and honrs. 

Since she has entered Jesns' Joy, 
And would a selfish wish of yours 

Have kept her here from saoh employ 1 
Would yon those blissful moments still 

Had conrsed beneath the crael sway 
Of anguish, baffling all our skill. 

Of longings, brooking ill delay 1 
Connt o'er, again, the golden days 

The saint has pass'd in yonder world. 
And as yon count, for each give praise. 

And be thy banner, Hope, nnfarUd — 
The ecstatic hope, to join her there, 

To learn its wonders from her month. 
In heaven's infancy her care, 

As we have been in earthly yooth ; 
To sing with her the hymns sublime. 

By angels fram'd, to Jesus' name ; 
To learn her harp's harmonious chime, 

Like her, to celebrate His fkme. 
From where the parent shines on high. 

Oh, God ! the offispring shut not out ; 
Gruide us, Jehovah, with thine eye. 

And let thine angels camp about. 
Purge us fW>m vanity and pride, 

Low-thoughted sense, and selfish aims. 

S88 THS motbsb's orats 

To Kre to Wm, for us who died. 

To feel and yield Him aU hiB daiflii. 
IVoteot us, by thy watohiiil power. 

Through all the eyils of onr state ; 
take her, reoeiye us at the hour 

When death to heaven thaU ope the gate. 


, bj the mwring of wvenl memben of the noM fiuaflj at the 

ptf or their moUMr, aA»r a lepantioB of auuiy jmn, 
Wb parted when our jmxogr glad hearts 

From anzions ean were free ; 
We parted when the gay, green lM?ei 

Were fresh on eyeiy tree ; 
When yonthAil Tiflions, bri|^i and fUr, 

Game floating o'er the mind. 
As shining olonds or fragrant air 

Are borne npon the wind. 
We parted when the summer birds 

Warbled on ereiy bough ; 
And gurgling brooks, in leafy dells. 

Made mnsio, soft and low. 
All bright and beautiful, the flowers 

Their peiiiimes sweetly shed,— 
Whenee are yon gone, ye happy hours 1 

Alas ! ye all hare fled. 
We met again, when anxious eare 

Was seated on eaeh brow. 
And time had deeply written there 

The marks of grief and woe. 
No longer waved the branohes green. 

The flowers no perftime shed. 
But wintry winds blew oold and keen 

Across the violet's bed. 
We met— but Oh ! what words ean tell 

The deep despair and gloom— 
The ohoking sighs-— the knees whioh ftO 

In sadness on the tomb 
Of her who bless'd our infhou^ 

With fbnd, maternal love 1— 
We parted in despondeney ,— 
Atf i^pc to mmC abovs. 




** Mother !" The name which is associated in ewf 
▼iitaous mind with all that is amiable and delighliiiL 
" Mother !'' Most tender, endearing, and expresnye of 
all hmnan appellations ! A title employed equally by 
the royal prince, the sage philosopher, and th^ untor 
tored peasant, — ^by the sayage and the civilized in all 
nations, and through all generations. A relation mer- 
cifully founded m the constitution of our nature — ^ani- 
versally felt, and uniformly acknowledged. And who 
among all the children of men, except those who in 
early infancy were bereaved of their anxious parent8» 
has not happily experienced the inexpressible inflnenoe 
of its charming and delightful power ; who, of all the 
great and the mighty upon the earth, does not recog- 
mae the imnumbered blessings which he has enjoyed 
through this endeared relation? 

His own infinite wisdom and boundless good- 
mem prompted the Almighty Creator to ordain this 

beneficent relaticHi, with all its sweet attrootiona ^imI 


happj endeannents. Must he not, therefore, hare made 
it honorable, noble, and dignified ? And ought its ele- 
vation and importance to be forgotten and neglected ? 
Smrefy it demands our most intelligent consideration 
and devout acknowledgment. But what mind has 
ever possessed a capacity enlarged and matured to 
comprehend fully the true dignity of a Mother ? 

Woman was formed by the glorious Creator as a 
"help-meet for man:" whatever dignity, therefore, at- 
taches to him as a rational being, and the representa- 
tive on earth of his Maker, is shared by the partner of 
his life, his other self. Woman is the equal participa- 
tor of all the honors which pertam to human nature. 
But woman's highest dignity and her greatest honors 
are found in contributing to the perfection of the divine 
purpose of her Creator in her peculiar character of 

A mother's dignity, however, will but imperfectly 
appear unless she is considered as bringing into the 
world a rational offspring, whose existence will affect 
others, and will continue through eternal ages. Adam* 
by intuitive wisdom imparted from God, perceived this 
surpassing excellence when " he called his wife's name 
Eve," because she was the mother of aU living, Gen. 
iii. 20. Woman must be contemplated as giving burth 
to those whose principles, characters, and labors will 
deeply and permanentiy influence individuals in the 
domestic circle^ cuid which will be felt by large com- 
munities, and in some instances, at least, by the whole 
population of the world. Our blessed Lord> acknowl- 


edges this sentiment, expressed by the woman respect- 
ing himself, when having seen his mighty works, and 
heard his wise discourses, she exclaimed, '' Blessed is 
the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thoa 
hast sucked." — ^Luke vi. 27. On this rational princi- 
ple we cannot separate the greatness which distinguish- 
ed the worthies of ancient and modem tunes, from the 
characters of their favored mothers. Watts, Dod- 
dridge, Wesley, King Edward, King Alfred, and many 
others, have immortalized their names by their per- 
sonal virtues, and by their imperishable works to ben- 
efit their country ; but while we contemplate and enjoy 
the fruits of their extraordinary labors, we cannot fail 
to reflect upon, the influence of their excellent mothers. 
We cannot refrain from tendering to them the honor 
which is then* due, on account of their noble endeavor 
to discharge their maternal obligations, rendering them 
public blessings. 

Divine inspiration has directly sanctioned this prin- 
ciple in the case of the Virgin Mary. Congratulated 
by her venerable relative Elizabeth, mother by miracle 
of the herald prophet of Messiah, and filled with the 
Holy Spirit, who directed her to look forward to the 
future greatness of her mysterious Son, her enlight- 
ened and pious mind burst forth in devout admiration 
at the honor which would be ascribed to her on ac- 
count of his unspeakable blessmgs to mankind. She 
gave expression to her elevated thoughts and said, 
**My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath 
rejoiced in God my Saviour. For he hath regarded 

392 TBS moBnnr ow mokhsbb. 

tbe lowliness of his baad-niaiden. For bebold hem 
l^nceforth, all genemticNaB sball call ma Messed." — 
Luke L 46-48. 

llothen in our time, though not dignified m the 
Quuiaer of the Blessed Yirgm, and not wammted to 
antieipate a similar honor to that which attached to her 
name, may yet contemplate the influence which their 
cHldrenwill have upon society, and their own honor 
win be secured and promoted by laboring to foim 
their infant minds to religion, to virtue, and to love of 
their country. 

Immortality especially gires dignity to its subjects : 
and hence arises, m no inconceivable degree, the exalt- 
ed honor of a mother. By the sovereign ordination 
of tb« Almighty, she gives birth, not to a being of a 
mere momentary ejistence, and whose life will perish 
as that of the beasts of the field, but to an immortal ! 
Her sucking infant, feeble and helpless as it may ap- 
peiar, possesses within its bosom a rational soid — an 
intellectual power — a spirit which all-devouring time 
cannbt destroy — ^which can never die — but which will 
outlive the splendors of the glorious sim, and the 
bunting brilliancy of all the material host of heaven ! 
Throughout the infinite ages of eternity, when aU these 
shall h^ve answered the beneficent end of their crea-. 
tion, and shall have been blotted out from their por- 
tions in the immense regions of space, the soul of the 
humblest child will shine and improve before the eter- 
nal throne, being filled with holy delight and divine 
lo¥^ and ever active m the praises of its blessed Creat<Mr« 

m 9i«iiirr ov kothbbs. U$ 

likeness to the infinite^ glorious Creator constitutes 
the chief dignity of our nature. And the intelligent, 
pious mother looks upon her infant offspring with ador- 
ing gratitude to God, as possessing that likeness. Orig- 
inaUy, ''the Lord God formed man of the dust of the 
ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, 
and man became a living soul." — Gen. ii. 7. By the 
same omnipotent and gracious will, God has given be- 
ing to human souls through all generations as at the 
fiist creation ; but the mother is honored as the me- 
dium of this mysterious creation m the case of every 
child. And though the moral likeness of its blessed 
Maker is defaced by the fall of our ^t parents, still, 
in thousands of instances, by means of early tuition and 
the prayers of the faithful mother, the child is " created 
in Christ Jesus in righteousness and true holiness." — 
Bph. il 10; iv. 24. 

What, then, can be the greatness, dignity, and honor 
of her who is the appointed medium of such amarang 
powers and blesdngs! Must not mothers feel th^r 
high distinctions ? Should they not frequently be in- 
vited to contemplate them ? In this the security, the 
prosperity, and the happiness of our country, and even 
the welfare, the regeneration of the world, are in- 
volved ; he, therefore, who is most successful in lead- 
ing their minds to a proper, a rational and Scriptural 
view of this greatest of earthly relations, will most ef- 
fectually engage, as he will most worthily merit, the 
gratitude and esteem of dignified, happy, and Christian 




The Rev. James Cameron, in his admirable lectures to 
mothers, observes : — 

1 . If you would train up your children in the way 
they should go, it is necessary that you cultivate a deep 
and abiding sense of your own insufficiency, I need 
say nothing, I am persuaded, to convince you of the 
fact of your insufficiency; if you have seriously re- 
flected on the magnitude of your responsibility, you 
are ready to ask, '' Who is sufficient for these things ?" 
Your work is to train inmiortal beings for God — ^the 
same work, in substance, as that for which the Chris- 
tian ministry has been instituted ; and in reference to 
this work, even the Apostle of the Genliles said, *' We 
are not sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of 
ourselves." — 2 Corinthians iii. 5. Tou are puiakers 
of the same sinful nature with those whom you have to 
tram, encompassed with all the weakness of fallen hu- 
manity, and subject to all its temptations. You have 
to contend against your own sinful propensities; to 
watch over your own spirits ; to strive with your own 
waywardness ; and in the midst of all this, to set be- 
fore your children such an example of patience, for- 
bearance, and holy living, as shall be a true and faith- 
ful comment on the sacred truths you teach them. If 
ever you become self-sufficient, be assured you will 
labor in vain ; " for God resisteth the proud, but giv- 
eth grace to the humble." 


But why do I urge upon you the consideration of 
your insufficiency? Is it to sink you into despair? 
Nay, verily ; that were a profitless, as well as a cheer- 
less undertakmg. It is to induce you, in utter hope- 
lessness of accomplishmg the desired result by your own 
wisdom or strength, to cast yourselves on the God of 
an wisdom and of all strength, for it is written, « Cast 
fliy burden upon the Lord and he will sustain thee." 
— ^Psalm Iv. 22. *' He giveth power to the faint> and 
to them that have no might, He increaseth strength. 
Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the 
young men shall utterly fall ; but they that wait upon 
the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount 
up with wings as eagles ; they shall run and not be 
weary ; and they shall walk and not faint." — ^Isaiah zl. 
29, 31. You can have no fitness for your work, and 
no success in your work, but what comes from God. 
Tou cannot expect that God will grant this fitness and 
this success, unless you look to Him alone for them. 
But such is the natural unwillingness of the human 
heart to turn to God and to trust only in Him, that it 
is not till we are driven from every other refuge, and 
deprived of every other stay, that we cling to Him with 
the simple child-like dependence of those who have 
truly learned that there is no other God besides Jeho- 
vah ; that all power, and all wisdom, and all blessings 
are from Him; and that without Him, every effort 
must be vain, and every undertaking abortive. The ab- 
solute helplessness and moral impotency of fallen maa 
is one of the most important lessons we can be taught; 

99^ QUAXoioAnoTO BflBipnii* 9x> n^i 

Ipt iihsl it IS one of th^ miort difiw^t for f|f9P4 hi&- 
M^ nature to leam. The Spiat of God <^ t^nch ^ 
eiuji blessed are they wk/o, being tavghjb by tli^ diiaps 
8^t their own utjter helplessmess, are tmighA at tjb# 
sfi^n^ time that they hf^ve a Qod to go to who cm fiH^ 
019^ ihem richly with all they need. ! 

Again, then, I repeat, cnUivate a senae of yon^ inr 
safficiency for the great work to which God has called 
yoii^ and let this be so thoroughly interwoven in the 
rery texture of your minds-^let it so thoroughly per- 
vade your whole halHts of thinloing and feeling, thai 
yon shall be kept in the very lowest depths of setf^ 
disgust, feeling that your only safety is in clin^^ng, as 
with a death-grasp, to the soul-sustaining declaration* 
** My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength la 
peifected in weakness." — 2 Corinthians zii. 9. It ia 
only when a deep sense of insufficiency, and a strcHig 
oonfidence in God are combined, that you are at aO 
lijcely to be successful in your arduous work ; your sense 
of msufficiency will make you cautious, tender, watch- 
ful, prayerful ; and your confidence in God will nerve 
your soul, and strengthen you to grapple with the dif- 
ficvlties you have to encounter. 

2. If you would train up your children in the way 
they ehoidd go, it is necessary that you diligently eul" 
Uwte your oum minds, imbuing them wiih sound prm* 
dples, and storing them toith useful knowledge. It may 
be said, that this ought to have been done before you 
0(Hmipied the position you do — and it is true. But ft 
will ]fQ acknowledged, we think, by ahnost aQ who are 


^piable 6f forming a judgment on the subject, that gen- 
erally speakmg, it is not done before, and that in nin6- 
takths, perhaps, of those cases in which the mind has 
be^i fitted for the efficient discharge of a mother's dii- 
ti^, its cidtivation has been chiefly, if not entirely ef- 
fected, at a period subsequent to that allotted to what 
IB termed Education, The education which females 
generally receiye in youth, is but ill fitted for enabling 
ihem rightly " to mould the mass of human mind." Ed- 
uoatioh properly so called is the traming of the intellect, 
the conscience, and the affections. But is this a de- 
scription of female education as it actually is, even with 
aB the boasted improvements of modem times ? Is that 
education in any prominent degree, the education of 
ibe mind or heart at all, in any form ? Alas ! it is too 
frequently the cultivation of manner only. The useful 
is sacrificed to the ornamental. The casket is embel- 
fished with all kmds of tinsel-work, which may attract 
the admiration of the beholder, while the invaluable 
j^#d it contains is left to comparative neglect. Let it 
not be supposed that we undervalue accomplishments. 
We believe them to be highly valuable — ^much more 
vahiable than many who eagerly pursue them seem to 
be aware. But they may be too dearly purchased. 
And assuredly they are too dearly purchased, when- 
ever they so engross the time and attention, as to leave 
Kttiie or no opportunity for the cultivation of the mind 
itself. It is distressing to think that while so much de- 
pends on the trasning of the female mind, so little pro- 
vision is. made for that trainmg being effective. Nar 

238 . QUAunoAnoss iuukktul to thb 

poleon once asked Madame Campan wbat the Fremdi 
nation most needed, in order that her yonth might be 
properly educated. Her reply was comprised in one 
word — that word was — " Mothers !" And it was a 
wise reply. Not the French nation only — the toorld 
needs mothers, — Christian, intelligent, well-trained 
mothers, to whom the destinies of the rising genera- 
tion may safely be entrusted. 

A distinguished philosopher has remarked, that all 
the world is but the pupil and disciple of female in- 
fluence; how important, then, that females should 
be fitted for their work ! And is the education they 
generally receive in youth such as is likely to fit them 
for that work ? No one acquainted with the subject 
will reply in the affirmative. The end desired seems 
rather that they should be qualified for securing admi- 
ration and appli^use, than for moulding the minds and 
forming the characters of those who are to be the fu- 
ture defenders of the faith, — the ministers of the Gos- 
pel, the philosophers, the legislators, of the next gen- 

I feel that I cannot do better than present you wHh 
the remarks of one ol your own sex on this subject — 
(me who is well entitled to an attentive hearing — ^I 
mean the author of '' Woman's Mission :" 

" What, then, is the true object of female education ? 
The best answer to this question is a statement of fu- 
ture duties ; for it must never be forgotten, that if 
education be not a training for future duties, it is noth- 
ing. The ordmary lot of woman is to marry. Has 

BUOHABOB or UATSBXAL doths. 289 

anything in these educations prepared her to make a 
wise choice in marriage ? To be a mother ? Haye 
the duties of maternity — ^the nature of moral influence 
— ^been pointed out to her ? Has she eyer been en- 
lightened as to the consequent unspeakable importance 
di personal character as the source of influence ? In 
a word, haye any means, direct or indirect, prepared 
her for her duties ? No ! But she is a linguist, a 
pianist — graceful, admired. What is that to the pur- 
pose ? The grand eyil of such an education is the 
mistaking means for ends : a common error, and the 
source of half the moral confusion existing in the world. 
It is the substitution of a part for the whole. The 
time when young women enter upon life, is the one 
point to which all plans of education tend, and at 
which they all terminate; and to prepare them for 
that pdnt is the object of their training. Is it not 
cruel to lay up for them a store of future wretched- 
I by an education which has no period in yiew but 
\ yery short one, and the most unimportant and 
irresponsible of the whole life ? Who that had the 
power of choice would choose to buy the admiration 
of the world for a few short years with the happiness 
of a whole life ? 

The temporary power to dazzle and to charm, with 
the growing sense of duties undertaken only to be 
neglected, and responsibilities, the existence of which 
is discoyered, perhaps umultaneously with that of an 
utter inability to meet them. Eyen if the mischief 
stopped here, it would be sufficiently great ; but the 

t40 QVAunoAnovs imsntial to 

mtmng appetite for applause, onee rtmatA, is not m 
ensQj luUed again. The moral energies pampered 1^ 
VBwholesome nourishm^it — ^like the body when dis- 
<»ndered by luxoriovs dainties, refuse to perform ^ir 
healthy functions, and thus is sustained a perpetual 
strife and warfare <^ internal principles; the selfish 
principle still seeking the accustomed gratification, the 
conjugal and maternal prompting to tiie performance 
ci duty ; but duty is a cold word, and pe^le, in order 
to find pleasure in duty, must haye been trained to 
ccmsider their duties as pleasures. This is a truth at 
which no one arrives by inspiraticm. And in this moral 
struggle, which, like all other struggles, produces las- 
situde and distaste <^ all things, the happiness c^ the 
individual is lost ; her us^ulness destroyed ; her in- 
fluence most pernicious. For nothing has so injuikms 
an effect on temper and 'manners, and consequently Ott 
moral mfluence, as the want of that intenial quiet, 
which can only arise from the accordance of duty wifli 

I have a double object in Tiew in directing your at- 
tention so prominently to this point — ^that you nay 
bring these sentiments to bear on the education of your 
daughters ; and that you may feel the necessity, what- 
erer may have been the nature and extent ci your own 
previous education, of continuing diligentiy to educate 
yourselves, and add to your resources. You wiH find 
that there is need of aU, for you have a great work 
given you to do. Especially, let the sacred truths ef 
God's Word be the subject of your constant study. 


Be not Gontent with a superficial knowledge of '' the 
great things of God's law/' but seek to know them in 
all their depth and fullness, tracing their bearings and 
connections, studying their harmonies and proportions ; 
that thus, by havmg " the Word of Christ dwelling in 
you richly in all wisdom," you may be '' thoroughly 
furnished unto all good works." 

But though the Word of Qod must be your ohibj 
study, beware of supposing it must be your only study. 
All truth is from God, and all truth may be made sub- 
servient to the great work of training your children for 
God. Indeed, if you confine your study to the Bible 
alone, you will not study to the best advantage ; for, 
without the knowledge which is derived from oUier . 
sources, a great part of the Bible will be to you a 
sealed book. All the knowledge we can acquire of 
whatever kind, and from whatever source, will, if right- 
ly employed, aid us in our study of the Scriptures ; 
and the wisdom of those who, decrying all kinds of 
secular knowledge, would hmit us to the perusal of 
one book, even though that is God's own book, is of a 
piece with that of the fanatic who burned the Alex- 
andrian Hbrary, and justified the act by pleading, that 
if these books contained nothing more than was taught 
in the Koran, they were unnecessary, and if they con- 
tained more, they were pernicious. Let the mind take 
an extensive range — as extensive as your time and cir- 
cumstances will permit. If knowledge is power, then 
the more knowledge the more power. But mere pow- 
er 18 not enough ; unless combined with beneyolence, 

Mi ovAUfioAncHRi aBsnrnftL to foa 

me have no Becwntf that it will be exercised fer 1 
AeU purposes. It may be employed tocnne, tiot te 
Uess — ^to destroy, not to save. Let all your Imewl- 
ed^, therefore, be baptized into Christ. ' Brii^ it -to 
ike foot <^ the Cross, and there let it be soienmly d«d- 
ionted to the service of Him who died that sinful mm 
•might live. Thus shall yon possess power oombioed 
with benevolenee ; for the religion of the cross is the 
rdigion of benevolence. 

lliere is one department of knowledge which I would 
tpedally commend to your notice — ^I mean the knowl- 
ed^ of the mind itself. It is with mind you have to 
deal in training your children, and unless you are in 
tome measure acquainted with the laws by which it is 
governed, and the manner in which it dischaiges its 
various functions, you will find yourself frequently at a 
loss ; and more frequently still, you will fall into grier* 
<nis blunders, without being aware of them, till the re» 
suit shows that there has been something wrong, 
though you know not what. The musician, thoogh 
utterly ignorant of the internal mechanism of his in- 
strument, may elicit from it the most melodious sounds. 
He may thus operate successfully enough with the in- 
strument ; but he cannot operate successfully on the 
instrument. If it is out of tune, he cannot tune it ; tf 
it is impaired, he cannot repair it ; he must have re- 
course to some one who understands its stmeture, and 
knows the laws which regulate the conveyance of 
sound. He can use the instrument, but he cannot ^ 
ire may be allowed such an expressioB) tnun the in- 

wmnuMM ov maxiwai. wmm. Mi 

Byw 8o«^if jcm bufidaew were mesgelj to 
operate by means of miiid already formed, you mgiA 
do muchi though ignorant of the stmetiue of vmir^ 
tiumgh even here you would feel the disadvantage ef 
%noniQce. But your businese k to operate on mind 
itadf— to adjust the instrument^to repair it when in- 
paired — ^to tune it when out of tune ; and how is iUs* 
to be done if you are ignorant of the pnnciples of the 
mind which you have to train ? 

In all your ccmduct, xianifest the most undeviating 
eoBsistency. The adage, that example is more power^* 
ftil than precept, is so trite, that you are in little danger 
of being allowed to forget it. But there is another 
troth which is more apt to be lost sight of— namely, 
Ihttt childrai, ev^ at a very early age, are eagle-eyed 
to observe the inconsistencies of a parent; and the 
dightest inconsistency, though it be manifested only in 
a word or a look, lowers your influence over them in 
aa inconceivable degree. When a child leanis to die- 
trwt its mother, all her warnings, and admonitioofl, 
and remonstrances, however earnest and unremitting, 
fidl powerless. This is the chief reason, it is to be 
feared* why we so frequently see the children of pkHis 
parents grow up impenitent. 

The example of their parents has not been uniform-' 
ly Qondstent with their instructions, and therefore have 
Ihese instructions been useless. , A writer in an Amer- 
ican periodical relates the following incident^ whiob 
may iUostinte these remarks : 

** A mother had a family of three interesting dani^ 

844 q^vAUiioAnoirs mbshtial vo m 

Un, and requested me for a time to become their 
tutor. Dining the time I was thus employed, the 
pastor and an elder visited the house. The venerable 
minister affectionately inquired of the mother, if she 
was consdous of having faithfully discharged the du- 
ties ci a Christian mother to her impenitent children? 
The mother replied, 'that she believed she had done 
all she could — she had prayed for them, and talked 
with them, until it seemed to do no good.' She pro- 
fessed great anxiety for them, and wished that they 
might be made the subjects of prayer. A few days 
after this visit, I called at my usual hour, and found 
that a lady of their acquaintance had stepped in for 
a fashionable call. She sat a few minutes, and was 

treated very civilly by Mrs. , and when^ she rose 

to leave, was very warmly urged to sit longer. She 

declined this, and as she left, Mrs. expressed the 

hope that they should have the pleasure of seeing her 
often. The hall door had scarcely closed, when the 
mother turned round in the presence of her daughters, 
and with a petulant air, ' wondered how people could 
find so much time to walk about the streets and trouble 
their neighbors.' Here, thought I, it is no difficult 
thing to see why 'it does no good' for the mother to 
' talk about religion' to her daughters ; and I thought 
it must be impious mockeiy for that mother to pray 
for the conversion of her cldldren, while she contmued 
to set before them such an example." 

Mothers! watch your conduct. Your children 
wa|eh it. Every expression of your countenanco— 


ffferj word you utter — every action they see you per- 
form, is scanned and scrutinized by them ; and if tliey 
perceive that you act inconristently, they will in thdr 
hearts despise you. And you cannot long deceive a 
' child with regard to character ; the only sure way to 
appear consistent is to be so. 

4. Be firm and unbending in the exercise of your 
authority, requiring on all occasions implicit, unreost- 
ing obedience. Implidt submission to the authority of 
Ood is essential to true religion. And God has given 
you absolute authority over your child, that by being 
habituated to the exercise of implicit submissioii to 
your will, he may be trained to the exercise of implidt 
submission to His. Until your child b able m some 
measure to judge for himself, you are to him m the 
place of God ; and if you allow your will to be dispu- 
ted — if you shrink from the exercise of absolute, un- 
compromising authority — you train your child to be a 
rebel i^ainst God. A mother's indulgence lays the 
foundation for disobedience and insubordination toward 
God ; which, unless Divine grace in future yean pre- 
vent, must issue in the child's eternal ruin. And if 
you would have your authority regarded, it must be 
perfect. If even once you allow it to be successfully 
disputed, the consequences may be disastrous. There 
is no safety but in a uniform tmbending decision, so 
that your child may ever feel that there is but <me 
question with which he has to do, namely, " What does 
my mother require ?" and that when this is known, it 
is utterly vain to think of questioning or disputing. 

Mi qgakLmoAvioim sbshitxal vo m 

IWb is a point of permanent importanee. If youenr 
hoit, you err fatally^ and irrecoverably. 

Let it not be said that the principle we incnlcato Is 
severe. It is not so. The most imbending aathmi(?f 
may be blended with the most unwearied love. And 
the two ought ever to be blended. These are the twi» 
great principles of God's government, and your family 
government should resemble Hk. The unwearied ex- 
ereise €i love will prevent your authority from degen- 
eratbg into harshness — the unbending exercise of an- 
th<Nity will prevent your love from degenerating into 
feofish indulgence. 

5. If you would train up your children in the way 
th^ should go, you must restram and curb their way* 
ward propensities. Never forget that they possess * 
dej^ved nature, prone to all evil, — averse from afil 
good. Beware, therefore, of allowing them to have 
ihefa: own way. That is the way which leadeth to 
death. Accustom them by times to submit to restraint. 
Subject them to wholesome discipline ; and do this m 
such a manner as shall prove even to themselves, that 
it is done not for the gratification of your passion, but 
for their profit. A child left to his own way will bring 
ruin on himself, and sorrow and disgrace on his pa- 
rtita; Remember the case of Adonijah. His fath^ 
had not displeased him at any time in saying, ** Why 
hast thou done so V in other words, he was a spoiled 
child. And what was the consequence ? His father's 
dying bed was disturbed by his treasonable machina- 
tions, and in order to secure the peace of the king- 


dhai» Us own brotherwaa obliged to issue an orderfcr 
kk death. Look at £11 He was a good man» hiA m 
weak and ixresolute parent He allowed his sons to 
kai^e thdr own way, until he had lost his authoiity 
Qver them, and when at length he remonstrated with 
tkem on the wickedness of their conduct, his words 
w«re unheeded : he was too late in beginning. And 
ok ! how dolefully must the message of the Lord by 
Samuel have fallen upon the old man's ears, and how 
must his heart have sunk within him when he listened 
to such words as these : — " I have told Eli that I will 
judge his house forever, for the iniquity which he 
knoweih ; because his sons made themselves vile, and 
he reeirained them not. Therefore have I sworn unto 
die house of Eli, that the iniquity of Eli's house shall 
not be puiged with sacrifice or offering forever." 

6. It is of great importance that you begin the train- 
ing of your children early. Perhaps one of the great* 
set mistakes into which mothers fall, is the mistake of 
supposing that the first two or three years of a child's 
life are unimportant as it regards his training. The 
truth is, that in reference to the formation of character, 
these years are the most important of all. From the 
impressions made, and the principles formed, during 
these years, your child's character for eternity may 
take its color and complexion. You cannot begin too 
early. Long before your child can speak, he is sus- 
ceptible of moral training. We frequently hear moth- 
ers speak of their children being too young to be taught 
obedience, but no child is too young to be taught obe« 

MS QUAunoAnoxs lasumAL to thb 

dieace, who knows what he is expected to do, or from 
what he is expected' to refrain ; and the mother who 
acts on the maxim, that children may have thar own 
way for a certam number of years, or even of months, 
will find, to her cost, that that lesson, at least, will not 
speedily be forgotten. "When I speak of early train- 
ing, I refer not to intellectual^ but to moral train- 
ing. Intellectual training is, perhaps, in the most of 
cases, commenced too soon, while the other and m(»e 
important is neglected, though it is that of which an 
infimt child is most capable. 

Again, then, we repeat, begm early. Bend the twig 
While it is yet tender ; not only is it then most easily 
bent, but it is most likely to retain the form you give it. 

7. If you would train your children in the way they 
should go, you must make all their training bear, di- 
rectly or indirectly, on their spiritual and eternal well- 
being. By this I do not mean that you should be alwaya 
speaking to them about religion, for there is such a 
thing as forming in the mind of a child a permanent 
association between religious truth and the feeling of 
weariness or disgust; and against this evil, parents 
should especially guard. I mean that you should your- 
self always keep in view their eternal interests. It i& 
not merely for the employment of the few fleeting years 
of the present life, that you are training them, — it ia 
for the service and enjoyment of God forever. Oh, 
what a noble work is yours ! Contemplate it in the 
light of eternity, and you will feel that it is the most 
dignified — ^the most glorious employment in which aa 

DnoHABas or matxrral dutixb. SO 

immortal being can engage. The thought that it is for 
eternity, will sustain you amidst every difficulty, and 
cheer you on in your noble career. Yes, it is a noble 
career i for when all the honor, and pomp, and glare 
of « mere temporal pursuits hare passed away, the ef- 
fects of your work shall remam ; and ceaseless ages 
shall record the triumph of your faith, and fortitude, 
and patience. 

A celebrated painter was asked why he bestowed so 
much labor on all his productions ? His answer was, 
''I paint for eternity." Christian mothers! in your 
case, this is hterally true ; — ^you train your children for 
eternity. Ought yon not, then, to exercise unceasing 
care and vigilance ? 

8. It is surely scarcely necessary for me to add, as 
my last observation, that if you would tram up your 
children in the way they should go, you must abawnd 
in prayer — ^fervent, wrestling, believmg prayer. With- 
out this, you can do nothing as it ought to be done. 
Great and arduous are your duties, and great is the 
preparation you need for the discharge of them. Tou 
need wisdom — ^you need firmness — ^you need decision 
— ^you need patience— you need self-control — ^you need 
perseverance — and whither can you go for these but 
to the mercy-seat of Him " who giveth tmto all lib- 
erally, and upbraideth not ?" " Eveiy good gift and 
every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from 
the Father of lights." — James i. 17. Continual prayer 
will fit you for your duties, and make these duties 
pleasant. By {M^yer you will lay hold on the strength 

MO ns Monn's ohabai. 

of God, and be able to say wiOi ibe Apostle, **! ea& 
do all tbiDgs through Cbrigt^ who strengthe&eib me." 
*— Pbilippians iv. 14. 

I close these ranarka bj reminding jon onee moie 
of the magnitude of your rei^nsibifity. To you (un- 
der God) are entrusted the destinies ai the rising gen- 
eration, and through it, the destinies of the generatioiis 
following. The world looks to you ; the Church ef 
Qod looks to yon ; the spirits ci departed saints look 
to you; the angelic hosts look to you; God himself 
looks to you — as those whose influ^ice shall tell for- 
erer, oa thousands yet unborn. Let a sense of the 
inqMWtance of your high calling animate you to noi 
with patience the race that is set before you, and when 
you have finished your couibo, and are called to give in 
your account, yours will be the unspeakable happineas 
of being welcomed to the reahns of glory by the approY- 
iog Toice of your Saviour God — '* W^ done, good and 
fiuthlul servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord." 
And with all your loved ones around you, you wiB 
ftaad on the Mount Zion when " earth and seas have 
fled," and with a heart overflowing with gratitude, wiB 
east yoiff crowns at Jesus' feet, sajing, " Not unto ua^ 
Mt unto us, but unto Thy name be the gloiy." 


Lff me briefly illustrate the nature of a tnother^i 
eharge. That charge is nothiBg less than a physieal 


mtifma]. Mcouiitable, immortaJ^ tuifdl^ ttd »cU 

It is a physical being. The babe tb«t ihe embneei 
18 a curious piece of tbe diviiie workmanship. Its Mttie 
fiame bears the stamp of infinite wisdom and goodness. 
It is exactly fitted to answer the purposes for which it 
is designed, is wanting in nothing, is superfluoos m 
nothing. But yet it is only the germ of a man or a 
woman, destined, if it lires, to a natural process of ex* 
pansion. That body is, indeed, nothmg but finely-ov* 
ganized clay, and there does not essentially belong to il 
either the principle of immortality, or the prineiple of 
thonght; but it is designed to be the organ of the 
soul's operations, and is to exert no unimportant inflo* 
ence upon the soul's character and destiny. If the 
body dies, the soul will still liye ; but if the faculties 
of the body are not suitably developed, the mind thai 
inhabits it will find itself proportionably cramped, aad 
contracted in its operations. Let no one say, " it mat- 
ters not for the physical nature, if the higher nature be 
provided for," so loi^ as the one is the medium through 
which the oth^ acts. God hath joined them together 
in the economy of his creating wisdom ; and man must 
have respect to the connection, as he would accompUdi 
the end of his existence. ' 

The mother's charge is a rational being. Trp, in- 
deed, you see nothing in its earliest infancy to indicate 
that it possesses any higher faculties than the lamb, or 
the lark, or any other of the animal creati<»i. BtA, 
helpless as it seems, unconscious as it seems, there is a 

t5S tHB mothkb's obabos. 

gkiioiu principle of intelligence belonging to it wbich 
time will ere long reveal, and which, if rightfully devel- 
oped and directed, may render it a fit companion for an 
angel. Where all seems blank and dark, the light will 
ere long shine, and a mind that can discriminate, that 
can reason, that can feel, will be seen coming up in its 
strength and glory. Who knows bat that it may be 
the mind of a Newton — ^who shall measure the haghts 
and fathom the depths of the material creation ? Who 
knows but that it may be the mind of a Locke, that 
shall bring out the mysteries of thought, and reveal to 
man the secret springs of his own conduct? Who 
knows but that it may be the mind of a Milton, attuned 
to heavenly melodies, and touched with a seraph's fire ? 
What the particular character of her infant's mind is to 
be— whether of high degree or of low degree, the moth- 
er knows not — cannot know — enough that she knows 
that it is a spiritual, thinking, active principle, destined^ 
by the decree of Heaven, to an mdefinite expansion. 

But to the power of thought is also joined the sus- 
ceptibility of feeling ; the infant is bom with a moral, 
as well as a rational nature. In it are the elements of 
passions and affections, of desires and aversions, in 
which its happiness or unhappiness will chiefly be 
found, and which must decide, in a great degree, the 
complexion and destiny of the soul. Here, too, is 
concealed that noble principle of conscience, which, 
perhaps more than any other, bespeaks the dignity of 
human nature which is destined to occupy the judg- 
ment-seat in the soul, and to bring peace and joy, or 


remorse and terror, according to the decinons which it 
renders. In the earliest periods of infancy, there may 
be no higher happiness, or, at least, none apparent 
than freedom from bodily pain ; and there may be no 
other suffering than what consists in bodily -pam ; bnt 
there is a hidden nature there susceptible of enjoyment 
or suffering, that outruns all human comprehension. 
There is that which may kindle into a consuming fire, 
and show itself great in wrath, in desolation, in self- 
torture ; or which may glow with a genial fervor, dif- 
fusing serenity within, and shedding' light and joy over 
the whole field of its influence. 

And this leads me to say that the mother's chai^ 
is an accountable being. I do not mean to say, nor do 
I believe, that it is a moral agent from the beginning ; 
nor would I venture to mark the point of intellectual 
development, when moral agency commences, believ- 
ing, as I do, that that is one of the secret things which 
the Creator has retained in his own keeping ; — I only 
mean, that, as the infant is constituted with a rational 
and moitd nature, and is placed under the government 
of God, so accountableness is an essential attribute of 
that nature ; and that before the accountableness can 
ceas^ the power of distinguishing and choosing between 
good and evil must cease. What a reflection to a 
mother, that the imconscious babe in her arms is con- 
stituted in such a way, that its actions shall ere long 
sustain a moral character ; and that the whole history 
of its life shall be reviewed as a ground of approbation 
or of condemnation at the bar of the Eternal Judge t 

IM TB manaoL^n ctujum. 

Hie mother's charge, too, is immorkU. The bedj 
wBi^ indeed, Unt but a few Bhort years ; now she folds 
it m her anas, and dandles it upon her knee ; but soon 
it win have expanded to the measnre of a yonth ; aad 
ai a period a little more distant, it will have reached 
its mature growth ; and a little later, if, indeed, it has 
not been esrlier, it will return to the dnst whenee it 
came. But the spirit that ^ves the babe its chief in- 
tssest, the soul that thinks, and speaks, and boms with 
celestial fire, is rendered hnperishable, if not by the 
■eeesnty of its nature, at least by its Creator's decree. 
The arms that enfold your babe will become clods, the 
wmt that slunes upon your babe will be extingmshed, 
and the skies that attract its infant gase will be rolled 
iqp as a burning Testure, aad yet, all that is great and 
S|iiritnal in that babe shall surme, not only in unim« 
paired, but constantly increasmg eneigy. And for 
aoght we know, other suns and worlds may take the 
place <^ these which we now behoU, and, having fid- 
filled ^eir end, may pass away as a midnight dieam ; 
aad othera still may come up at the Creator's bidding 
to replenish immensity, and in obedience to a like de- 
cree, these may retire and be lost ia the abyss of an- 
nSuiaition, and yet that in£mt mind, whose oper|tioiiB 
are now so feeble that you can scarcely detect them» 
wfll live through all this wreck of worlds, and even 
tiMn will feel that its existence is only begun. When 
the Christian mother resigns her babe to the tomb 'm 
Hm budding season of its faculties, let her not look 
despairingly at the narrow house, as if her infant had 
perished there ; but let her rather think of the grave as 


the temporaiy dw^mg-place of the com^tHile, and 
be tibanjdul that Qod has penmtted her to make «iidi 
a eontribution to the immortal population of hea^oi. 

The Biothei^s cliarge is a sir^l bemg. What ! that 
flmiling, imconscious babe, whose eyes have so latefy 
been opened upon the light, a dinner ! Not an actoal 
tnnsgressor of God's law — for of that we cannot sup- 
poee that its faculties render it capable — but a sioaer 
in precisely the same sense that it is a nUional being — 
tiiere is that within it that will by-and-by kindle up 
and show itself a rational soul ; and there is that witili- 
in it also, that will by-and-by kmdle and show itseif a 
smfol dispoffltion. I will not refer to God's Word now 
for the only satisfactory explanation of this fact ; bfoi 
the &0t itsdf is proved by wurersal experience. 8ki&w 
me, if you can, an instance in the world's history, tun 
tint of the immaculate child Jesus, in which wbat has 
seenaed innocent infancy did not prove itself the gem 
of fluming childhood. And, besides, if no bereditary 
stam have reached an infont's mind — ^in other words^ 
if the infant be regarded as boly under the goremmeni 
of God, let us have the explanatitm of that bodily mtf- 
fering under which it shrinks, and writhes, and some* 
times^ven dies. Yes, mothers, talk as much as you 
will of your innocent babes, every one of them is the 
beir of an unholy nature, which will as certainly de- 
▼dop itseK in unholy action, aa that it dev^ps itsdf 
at all. The new-bom leopard may seem beautiful aadl 
haimless, and you fear not to take it up in your kandi^ 
or to press it to your boeom; but wait a wbiki» aadl 

SM TBS motbkb's ohabox. 

jaa dare not look at it except some banier inteiTeiie 
to protect you ; for it has shown itself possessed of a 
nature the promptings of which would be to tear joa 
to pieces. There was an infant bom between thirty 
and forty years^ ago that, doubtless, smiled upon its 
mother with the same apparent innocence with whidi 
oth^ infants, are wont to smile ; and, possibly, some 
advocate for the original purity of human nature may 
have drawn an argument from what it seemed to be 
in its helpless, imconscious state, to disprove that severe 
creed which recognizes infants as inheriting a moral 
taint from Adam ; but that infant had not lived long 
before he began to give proof that the orthodox creed 
was sound. In his boyhood he was revengeful and 
wicked ; in his manhood he was a murderer ; and the 
other day, when it was expected that the sun would 
have gone down upon his body hanging in ignominy 
between earth and heaven, it went down upon his body 
self-bathed in his own blood. Your children may not^ 
we trust will not, prove like him ; but you deceive 
yourselves if you imagme that, with all their loveliness, 
they have not the same sinful nature which made him 
a murderer. 

The mother's charge has also a gocial nature. .As it 
is not destined to exist in a state of solitude^ so it is 
endowed with a social propensity — with a disposition 
to mingle with other beings, to whom it wiE impart 
more or less of its own character. No man lives for 
himself alone. As he is bound to society by various 
tiesy so every relation that he sustains is a channel of 

A MO^nni's PRIVILBOX. S5f 

iafliieiice for good or eyil, that is operating constantlj 
«p<»i his fellow-men. It is a most serious thought that 
the infant in your arms, if it lives but a few years, wiD 
be an active member of society, and will not only be 
himaelf forming a character for eternity, but will be 
contributing an influence that will tell on the destinies 
of other minds through the whole period of thdr ex- 

Such is the mother's charge ; and where is the mother 
who can contemplate it without being ready to sink un- 
der the burden of responsibility which it imposes ? 


** What is a mother's privilege ? It is your privily, 
Ohristian mother, and you must not neglect it, to train 
up your child for heaven. It is your privilege, Oh ! 
ever prize it, to plead for him the promises of a cove- 
nant-keeping Ood. He bids you come : He will not 
suffer any one to forbid you, when with yearning soul 
you bear your little one, warmed in your bosom, its 
heart beating with kindred life against your own, to 
Him who died for you and your child. This is a moth- 
er's privilege, to win a blessing for the babe you love, 
that shall abide on its spirit through the eternity of ito 
being. As it lies lapped in your guardianship, uncon- 
scious of the care that watches its slumbers, you can 
breathe over faith's heartfelt dedication of your love to 
your present God. As in gentlest ministry of tender- 

MM ytm open for it your bosom's fount, and gir^ k qs 
it were to drink from your own life, you eau bear ili 
name in all the urgenoy of a mother's kve on yo«r 
humble, holiest pray w ! You can bind its soul around 
your own, inseparable from you, and never to be for- 
gotten or neglected while life or hope is yours. To 
watch its infant passions, and check their promptingB 
— ^to train its infant thoughts, — to twine around its in- 
fant heart a tie that Heaven will kindly own, and that 
shall wax stronger and stronger beneath a Saviour's 
smile, — ^this, this is a mother's privilege. Make it att 
your own. Think not it is enough to hops, but be 
sure to KNOW that your child is an heir of heaven. 
Promises bright with protection, and more precious 
still, with eternal life, beckon you on every page or 
God's revelation to labor for a world that needs sidva- 
tion. Plead them — plead them mightily, and leave 
Him not till he bids you go in peace. Motives break 
forth in voices from heaven, bidding you ' Come in with 
thy child, come !' and in unearthly warnings from the 
pt, ' Turn him from every path that may bring him 
here ;' and as they pour their tide of influence on your 
heart, they proclaun that you have a work of faith and 
labor of love to perform, in which you must not hnger, 
nor faint, nor grow weary. Strengthen, then, that 
faith by feeding on the word of truth, and drink in, in 
communion wilh an all-sufficient Redeemer, the streams 
ef life that may invigorate you to the noblest deed that 
your immcH*tal spirit can accomplish. You must win 
that soul, instinct with dying energies, to be a himg 

i in the Savioiir's crown. Pride woid4 tea^ yjom 
to adE for greatness, for honors to laurel the brov of 
your loved one, for what the earth-bom delight in fw4 
oaB happiness, to be his portion here ; but ask for Him 
agreater boon than any or all of these; you must h^ 
und passbg this narrow bound of time, your prayer 
Binst reach out to grasp a prize of which he can only 
know the worth, as he leams it where eternal ages 
atamp it never to be forgotten or unenjoyed. As if 
but one sole request, which must never be let go till it 
ia granted, is your errand there, so make your urgenpy 
be felt at the footatool of the throne. A mother's 
voi^e — a mother's heart shall not plead m vun." 


** Whbn I say that there is a connection between the pi- 
ety of mothers and the salvation of their children, I do 
not mean the connection which God has instituted in 
the covenant of grace ; for this covenant applies equally 
to both parents. There is something peculiar in the 
ease of a mother ; so that, independently of the cove* 
nant of God, maternal piety is more likely to be fol- 
lowed by the conversion of children, than the piety of 
a father. 

Ist This connection is very simple. A mother*t 
piety it peculiarly affectionate. There is nothing seven 
or ceremonious in its exercise ; but it mmgles itself wiijh 
the numberless littte natural kindnesses by which tib^ 


heart of a chfld is won, and acquires a hold on the first 
rising affections of his mind. A pious mother, while 
she watches over her sleeping or sick child, while she 
guides his tottering steps, or furnishes him for his 
school, or his pastime, or leads him up to the house of 
God, has a yearning of the soul over his soul, and 
cherishes and often expresses a feeling of solicitude for 
his eternal welfare, which difiuses a restraining and 
chastening influence over his nund, while it is precious 
also in the sight of God. Her prayers, wjiich she pours 
out oyer him, are in those wonted accents of tenderness 
and loye, which have always soothed his mmd, and 
kindled his affection. Her counsels, and admonitions, 
and chastisements, are the manifest dictates of a heart 
lahoring with desires for his conversion and salvation, 
and carry with them, on that account, an authority 
which truth and reason alone would he unahle to exert. 
2d. A motker^s piety is familiar. It lahors with 
her child, and hefore God in his behalf, in a style 
which he understands and feels. The language of her 
counsels and her devotions is a simple and artless ex- 
pression of her desires adapted to his youth, his inex- 
perience, his infirmities and temptations. It comes 
home to his heart. -He recognizes the voice that speaks 
to him to be the same which has always lulled him 
into his evenmg slumbers, and greeted him with morn- 
ing salutations ; and he feels that it means as much 
loudness for him, when speaking in counsel, or in pray- 
er, as when it has soothed his pains, or tempted his 
smiles, or encouraged his festivities. If a fiather^s 


efforts for the spiritual good of his child produce i 
of reverence, solemnity, and fear ; yet a mother ap- 
plies herself more directly to the heart, and fastens 
there a cord, which holds the affections and the sen- 
sibilities, when the other more powerful emotions have 
subsided. A mother will teach her child, will soften, 
or restrain, or encourage him, with incomparably more 
£Eicility and effect than any other individual. She will 
fix in his mind an outline of the whole history of the 
Bible, of its system of doctrines and precepts, sooner 
and better than any other person can initiate him into 
the first principles of Divine knowledge. He under- 
stands her tones, her looks, her gestures. They all 
speak to him, and they fix an impression which is 
always sure and abiding. And there is no time when 
a pious mother cannot have access to her child. How 
soon will she penetrate his heart, and ascertain the 
causes of aM his troubles ; how soon will she allay the 
storm of passion ; how soon apply to him the admoni- 
tions of Providence ; how soon excite an inquisitiye 
spirit, and how successfully follow up a father's sterner 
reproof and correction, with heart-breaking expostula- 
tions, reducing him to penitence, and fortifying him 
against future temptation ! A pious mother is a scMrt 
of better conscience to a child, a messenger of God 
ever the most ready and the most able, next to the 
Holy Spirit, to rescue him from the power of his de- 
pravity, and turn his feet into the paths of peace. 

8d. A pious mother has peetdiar opportunities if 
womng her children. She is ever at thdr side to re- 


strain their corrupt propensities, to regulate their mar* 
diiate desires, and encourage them to ohedienoe. She 
can tmn almost every event of Providence into aa 
occasion of salutary instruction, can mingle counsel as 
it were with their medicine and their food, can be ever 
distilling upon them the wholesome words of eternal 
life, as the dew upon the tender herli^ and the soft rain 
that waters the earth. Her mind is not burdened with 
cares for their sustenance, but with anxieties for their 
salvation; and while preparing for them their raiment, 
while superintending their tasks or theu* sports, she 
can be lifdng up to God her desires for thdr everlast* 
ing happiness. Her watchful eje can pierce through 
their duplicity, and search out their secret sins, while 
the leisure that God gives her for this very purpose 
can be employed in explaining to them the obligatkma 
and sanctions of the Divine law, the nature of thar 
corruptions, the consequences of their sms, and the 
way of salvation, through the atoning sacrifice of 
Christ. It is hers to commend them to God, when 
she commits them to their pillows, and when she leads 
them out to the employment of the day. They may 
enjoy her guidance as their constant monitor, tiU they 
are qualified to go out to another residence ; and her 
daily prayers and frequent correspondence may after- 
ward keep alive the precious instructions of their child- 
hood, and procure for them the better teaching and 
direction of the Holy Spirit. To the mother belongs 
most appropriately the duty and privilege of adminis- 
tering line upon line, and precept upon precept. To 


hnBg up hor oUldren for God is her great busineflB^ 
her honorable distinction, and it is connected in the 
Divine Proyidence with results the most encouraging 
and glorious. Not, indeed, that there is any intrinsic 
efficacy in the means which she employs, not that any 
means will neeesaarUy procure the salvation of the soul ; 
but so it is that God accomplishes the purposes of his 
mercy. He saves according to his pleasure ; but he 
saves by instruments naturally fitted for his purpose. 
He sanctifies the mother's heart, that heirs of glory 
may be educated for his kingdom. He blesses her 
counsels and her prayers, because to this end He qual- 
ified her to promote the interests of his kingdom." 

We cannot better conclude these forcible remarks 
than by the following affecting testimony and beautiful 
verses on the 


" When I was a little child," said a good old man, 
"my mother used to bid me kneel down beside her, 
and place her hand upon my head while she prayed. 
Ere I was old enough to know her worth she died, 
and I was left too much to my own guidance. Like 
others, I was inclmed to evil passions, but often felt 
myself checked, and as it were drawn back by a soft 
hand upon my head. When a young man, I traveled 
m foreign lands, and was exposed to many temptations ; 
but when I would have yielded, that same hand was 
upon my head, and I was saved. I seemed to feel its 
pressure as in the days of my happy infancy, and 
sometimes there came with it a voice in my heart, a 

264 MAnaNAL purr. 

race that^must be obeyed — ' O do not this wicked- 
B, my son, nor sin against ihj Qod/ " 


*' Why gase ye on my hoaiy hairs. 
Ye ehildren young and gay 1 
Your looks, beneath the blast of oara^ 
Will bleach as white as they. 

I had a mother once like you. 

Who o'er my pillow hung, 
Kiss'd from my cheek the briny dew. 

And taught my faltering Uogue. 

She, when the nightly couch was spread. 

Would bow my infant knee. 
And place her hand upon my head. 

And, kneeling, pray for me. 

But, then, there came a fearful day ! 

I sought my mother's bed. 
Till harsh hands tore me thenee away. 

And told me she was dead. 

I plucked a fair white rose, and stole 

To lay it by her side j 
And thought strange sleep enchained her soul^ 

For no fond voice replied. 

Hiat ere I knelt me down in woe. 

And said a lonely prayer ; 
Yet still my temples seemed to glow 

As if that hand were there. 

Years fled, and left me childhood's joy. 

Gay sports and pastimes dear ; 
I rose a wild and wayward boy. 

Who scorned the curb of fear. 

Fierce passions shook me like a reed ; 

Yet, ere at night I slept. 
That soft hand made my bosom bleed* 

And down I fell, and wepl. 

XAiBRHiL pmr. 265 

Youth came— the props of virtiie leei'd. 

And oft, at day's decline, 
A marble tonch my brow congealed — 

Bleas'd mother,— was it thine 1 

Hi foreign lands I traveled wide, 

My pulse was bounding high ; 
Vice spread her meshes at my side. 

And pleasure lured my eye ; — 

Yet still that hand, so soft and oold. 

Maintained its mystic sway, 
As when amid my curls of gold 

With gentle force it lay. 

And with it breathed a voice of can. 
As from the lowly sod, 
•* My son— my only one— beware ! 
Nor sin against thy God." 

Ye think, perchance, that age hath stote 

My kindly warmth away. 
And dimmed the tablet of the soul; — 

Yet when, with lordly sway. 

This brow the plumed helm displayed. 

That guides the warrior's throng ; 
Or beauty's thrilling fingers strayed 

These manly locks among, 

That hallowed touch was ne'er forgot ! 

And now, though time hath set 
His frosty seal upon my lot. 

These temples feel it yet. 

And if I e'er in heaven appear, 

A mother's holy prayer, 
A mother's hand and gentle tear. 
That pointed to a Saviour dear, 

Have led the wanderer there." 



« It not unfrequentlj happens that a judicious and faith- 
ful mother is connected with a husband whose principles 
and example are anything but what she could desire. 
In such cases, not only does the whole government of 
the family devolve upon the mother, but the influence 
of the father ia such, as, in a great degree, to counter- 
act all her exertions. This is indeed a trying situation. 
It is, however, far from bemg a hopeless one. You 
must not give up in despair, but let the emergencies of 
the case rouse you to more constant watchfulness, and 
more persevering and vigorous effort. If a wife be 
judicious and consistent in her exertion, a father, in al- 
most all cases, will soon find confidence in the manage- 
ment of the family, and will very gladly allow her to 
bear all the burden of taking care of the children. Such 
a father is almost necessarily much of the time absent 
from home ; and when at home, is not often m a mood 
to enjoy the society of his family. Let such a mother 
teach her children to be quiet and still when their father 
\a present. Let her make every effort to accustom them 
to habits of industry. And let her do everything in her 
power to induce them to be respectful and affection- 
ate to their father. This course is, indeed, the best 
which can be adopted to reclaim the unhappy parent. 
The more cheerful you can make home to him, the 
stronger are the inducements which are presented to 

m McmiSB's DiwiovLnB. 267 

draw him away from scenes mto which h^ ought not 
to enter. 

It is true, there is no situation more difficult than the 
one we are now describing. But that even these diffi- 
euhies are not insurmountable, facts hare not unfr^ 
qtiratly proved. Many cases occur in which the 
mother triumphantly surmounts them all, and rears up 
a virtuous and happy family. Her husband is most 
brutally intemperate ; and I need not here depict the 
soenes through which such a mother is called to pasd. 
She sees, however, that the welfare of tl^e famUy fe 
dependent upon her, and accordingly nerves her heait 
resolutely to meet her responsibilities. She commenoes 
m the earliest mfancy of her children, teaching thetd 
implicit obedience. She binds them to her with those 
ties from which they would never be able or desiroujs to 
breaL The most abundant success rewards her efforts. 
The older her children grow, the more respectful and 
attentive they become, for the more clearly they see 
that they are indebted to their mother for salvation from 
their father's disgrace and woe. Every sorrow of such 
a mother is alleviated by the sympathy and affection of 
her sons. She looks around upon them with feelings 
of maternal gratification, which no language can de- 
scribe. They feel the worth and dignity of her char- 
acter. Though her situation in life may be humble, 
and though her mind may not be stored with knowl- 
edge, yet her moral worth, and her judicious govern- 
ment, command their reverence. 

In afamily of this sort, in one of the States of Ameii- 

268 m MOTBXB 8 D ltWUmJIM . 

ea» one cold December night, the mother was ratting 
alone by the fire, between the hours of nine and ten, 
waiting for the return of her absent husband. Her 
sons, fatigued with the labors of the day, had all re- 
tired to rest. A little before ten, her husband came 
m from the neighboring store, where he had passed the 
evening with his degraded associates. He insisted in 
calling up the boys at that unseasonable hour, to send 
ihem into the wood-lot for a load of wood. Though 
there was an ample supply of fuel at the house, he 
would not listen to reason, but stamped and swore that 
the boys should go. The mother, finding it utterly in 
vain to oppose his wishes, called her sons, and told 
them that thdr father inrasted upon then: going with 
the team to the wood-lot. She spoke to them kindly ; 
told them she was sorry they must go ; but, said she, 
• Bemember that he is your father.' Her sons were 
fall-grown young men. But at their mother's voice, 
they inunediately arose, and without a murmur, brought 
out the oxen and went to the woods. They had per- 
fect confidence in her Judgment and her management. 
While they were absent, their mother was busy in pre- 
paring an inviting supper for them (m their return. 
The drunken father soon retired. About midnight^ 
the sons finished their tasks, and entering the house, 
found their mother ready to receive them with cheer- 
fulness and smiles. A bright fire was blazing upon 
the hearth. The room was warm and pleasant. With 
keen appetites and that cheerfulness of spirits which 
generally accompanies the performance of duty, those 


duldren sat down with their much-loved parent to the 
repast she had provided, and soon after, all were re- 
posing in the quietude of sleep. 

Many a mother has heen the guardian and saviour of 
her family. She has brought up her sons to industry, 
and her daughters to virtue. And in her old age, she 
has reaped a rich reward for all her toil, in the afifections 
and attentions of her grateful children. She has strug- 
gled in tears and discouragement for many weary years, 
till at last God has dispelled all the gloom, and filled 
her heart with joy in witnessing the blessed results of 
her fidelity. Be not, therefore, despondmg. Thai 
which has once been done, may be done again." 



It is of great consequence that you pursue a proper 
course in endeavoring to interest your children in the 
study of the Scriptures. Upon a proper use of this 
volume everything depends. There are some parts 
which children can at a very early age understand and 
appreciate. Others, from their style and subject, will 
act efficiently on mature minds alone. From the for- 
mer, which ought to be early read and explained, an 
important and most immediate religious mfluence can 
at once be expected. Selections from the latter should 
be fixed in the memory, to exert an influence in future 


MO BcnaPTVEAi. exowlmdbm. 

For ihe former of these purposes, the narraHvejpaiit, 
if judiflioiuly selected, are most appropriate in earij 
years. But great care ought to be taken to select those 
which may be easilj understood, and those to which 
some moral lesson is obvious and simple. Let it be 
eaDBtaxkHj borne in mind that the object in view m 
teaching the Bible to a child, is to affect kU heart ; and 
it would be well for every mother to pause occasionally, 
and ask henelf, '* What moral duty am I endeavoring 
to inculcate now ?" *' What practical effect upon the 
beart and conduct of my child is this lesson intended 
to produce ?" To ask a young child such a question 
as, " Who was the first man ? Who was the oldest 
man ? Wh^o slew Goliath ?" may be giving him les- 
sons in pronunciation, but it is. not giving him religious 
ijutruetion. It may be to teach him to articulate, or 
it may strengthen his memory ; but it is doing little or 
nothing to promote his piety. I would not be under- 
stood to condemn such questions, I only wish that pa- 
Nuts may understand thehr true nature. If the real 
or supposed dexterity ^f the child in answering them 
is not made the occasion of showing him off before 
eompany, thus cherishing vanity and self-conceit, it 
may be well thus to exercise the memory ; and some 
facts, which will be useful hereafter, may be fixed in 
this way. But it must not be considered as religious 
instruction ; it has not in any degree the nature ci re- 
Sgious mstruotion. 

What, then, is the kind of instruction which is to be 
^en from the Bible ? I will illustrate the method by 


Qfippomg a ease which may bring the proper piinoi* 
pies to Tiew. We will imagme the child to be three or 
four years old. 

" Come/' sajrs its mother, ** come to me, and I will 
read you a story." It is Sabbath afternoon, we will 
suppose; the mind of the child is not preoccupied 
with any other interest. *' Sometimes/' continues the 
mother, " I tell you stories to amuse you ; but I am not 
gcmg to do that now, it is to do you good. Do you 
understand how it will do you good to hear a story V* 

** No, mother." 

<' Well, you will see. It is the story of Cain and 
Abel. Do you know anything about it ?" 

Tea, Cain killed Abel." 

" Do you know why he killed him ?" 

'' Because he was wicked." 

"No, I mean what did Abel do to make Cain angry 
with bun? Did you ever see anybody angry ? Were 
you ever angry yourself?" 

"Yes, mother." 

" And I suppose you had some cause for it ? Now 
I will read the account, and see whether you can tell 
me what made Cam angry. ' And Gam brought (f the 
fnut of the ground an offering unto the Lord! Do you 
know what the fruit of the ground is ?" 

" No, mother." 

" It means anythmg which grows out of the ground. 
Cain was a farmer : he planted seeds and gathered the 
fruits which grew from them, and he brought some of 
them to o£fer them to God. < Aand Ahd broii^ of 


the fitftUngs of Ms fioek^ Do you know what that 

The child hesitates. 

''Abel did not cultivate the ground like Cain. He 
had great flocks of sheep and goats, and he brought 
some of the best of those to offer to God. So that 
you see that Cain and Abel did almost exactly Hie 
same thing. 

" Now God does not notice merely whaX tte do, but 
how we feel while we are doing it. If I should ask 
you to go and shut the door when you are busy, and 
if you should go immediately, but feel iU-himiored, 
God would be displeased. He looks at the heart. Da 
you ever feel ill-humored, when I wish you to do what 
you dislike ?" 

" Yes, sometimes." 

" Now Cain, I suppose, did not feel pleasantly when 
he brought his offering, and God was dissatisfied with 
him. But God was pleased with Abel's offering, and* 
accepted it. Should you have thought that Cain would 
haye liked this?" 

"No,— did he Hte it?" 

" No, he did not ; and it is very remarkable that he 
was displeased not only against God, but he was angry 
with his brother, who had not done him the least 
wrong. That is the way with us all. If you should 
do wrong, and sister do right, and I should blame tou 
and praise her, you would be tempted to feel angry 
with her, just because she had been so happy as to do 
her duty. How wicked such a feeling is 1 


*' Cain, howeyer, bad that feeling, and little children 
haye it yery often. It shows itself in different ways. 
Gain being a strong man, rose against bis brother in 
the field, and killed him. But young children who are 
weak and small, would only strike each other, or say 
unkind things to one another. Now, Ood is displeased 
with us when we haye. these feelings, whether we show 
them by unkind words, or by cruel actions. There is 
a particular yerse in the Bible that shows this. Should 
you like to haye me find it ?" 

"Yes, mother." 

" I will find it, then. It is in Matthew y., 22 ; our 
Sayiour says it. It is this, ' Whosoeyer is angry with 
his brother without a cause, shall be in danger of the 
judgment ; and whosoeyer shall say, Thou fool, shall be 
in danger of hell-fire.' This is not the whole yerse. I 
will explain the other part some other time." 

The reader will obserye at once, that the kind of 
instruction here exemplified, consists in drawing out 
the moral lesson which the passage is intended to 
teach, and in giying it direct and practical application, 
to the circumstances and temptations of the child. 


"Ths professed followers of Christ receiye the Word 
of Ood as the only rule of life, and do, in some im- 
portant cases, so modify their interpretations of it, by 


Ae euBtoms and ma^nw of a woild Ijing in wiiAed- 
neM, that they actually foUoir the dictates of a depni^ 
Ted heart. Their confidence is placed, partly in thdr 
own worldly wisdom, and partly in the power aild 
ftithfulness of God. 

It is to be feared that the Bible system of educatibn 
is strangely perverted by worldly wisdom. ' Train np 
a chfld in the way he shonld go, and when he is M 
he will not depart from it.' 

The family circle was appomted by Infinite Wisdom, 
as a nursery of all those principles which assimilate 
man to his Creator. How should we erer be able to 
fbrm any adequate conception of our Father who is m 
heaven, or of the endearing relation in which we stand 
to Him, if we had never known the bmid which unites 
Ae earthly parent and child ? 

Let a child be properly taught his duty to his eaartUy 
parent, that he may comprehend the higher one which 
hci owes to * our Father in heaven.' 

The reU^ous instruction of children, given by the 
parents in the family, enforced by a consistent example, 
and accompanied with fervent prayer, fumnhes fathers 
and mothers with the only well-grounded hope that 
their children will be prepared to meet the temptations 
of the world. 

How exalted the privilege, and how lofty the destiny 
of the rising generation ! and how momentous the re- 
sponsibilities resting upon Christian parents ! Christian 
mothers, weigh well the truth, that the most solemn 
obligations are pressing upon you to attend persona^* 


lihMoUy, and pmyeTfuJUj, to the leligknu edvealkn 
^ youir diUdren. If you would save your child from 
infidalitj, trust not the mouldmg of his young nmid 
to unhallowed hands. A child acquires a perfect con- 
fidenoe in its mother: hence her influence is greailar 
than any other. 

Who can so well discover the unfolding intellect <tf 
% child as the mother? Who can so well apply sea- 
sonable instruction as the watchful mother ? 

The first impressions are fixed principles, and your 
eiample may make them either good or bad. C]iii«> 
drea are ever watching for somethmg new from ikeht 
mother, and, through the corrupt propensities of ha- 
man nature, they will be far more ready to catch the 
evil than the good. How important, then, that yov 
every act be consistent and correct, that the first htt- 
presskms made upon the mind of your child be salu- 

Christum mother, consider how far your own con* 
duct will tell upon the future weal or woe ci your 
child's soul in eternity. By your apathy and n^li- 
gence your child may be lost ; by your prayerful, per- 
severing watchfulness, care, and instruction, through 
Christ, your child may be saved. 

'Let your grand object be, to make your child, 
whiliB yet a child, a believer in the Bible.' Thorough- 
ly «q>]ain to him its doctrines, precepts, and pronunes. 
l^aach him the theory of the Gospel, prayeifolly sub- 
aiitting the whole to God, believing the Holy SfMrit 
will do his office-work upon the heart But atx>v6 $B, 

2M awAxn xDucAnov. 

beware how you encourage your child to hope his fit* 
tie heart is regenerated, merely because he has learned 
and knows it to be necessary. Close discrimination is 
necessary, that you do not deceive your child, and 
lead him to beUeve his heart is changed, when in &ct 
it is not. Rest not satisfied until the fruits of the Spirit 
are manifested by the works of repentance and faith. 
Even Uttle children may be converted ; and when you 
are satisfied, by scriptural evidence, of the conversimL 
of your child, be not satisfied with yourself, and think 
your woric is done. It remains your duty, and your 
privilege, by the grace of God assisting you, to guide 
his young feet in the footsteps of our Saviour, the 
pathway to God, and etemal life. Mother, is it <tf 
small moment that you have in solemn charge the dis- 
posal of * intelligence and immortality,' on which hangs 
the issue of eteinity ? Does not your heart respond 
to this awful responsibility ? Then ever be found with 
a prayerful spirit, which is a ' Mother's panoply.' Pray 
without ceaamg." « 


'' FmsT. A watchful observance and management of 
the temper, the abuse of which is the impulse to vio- 
lence and anger, should commence when the child first 
opens its eyes upon its mother's countenance. The 
utmost that can then be attempted, is the diversion of 
the infant from the feeling, when excited, and from its 

mAKT XDcroAnoir. 277 

dbJ6Gt, and the ayoidance of all exciting causes. If 
tikis be neglected, a bias is given, which it is diffioidt 
ever afterward to correct. 

. Second. The child so managed by his nurse as to 
escape the first trials of temper, should be introduced 
as earlj as possible to his feUows of the same age ; the 
best time is when he begins to walk, for it is chiefly in 
the society of his fellows that the means of his moral 
training are to be found. 

Third. It is advantageous, perhaps necessary, that 
his fellows should be moderately numerous, presentmg 
a variety of dispositions — an actual world into which 
he is introduced — a world of infant busmess and inter- 
course — a miniature—and it is so of the adult world 
itself. Such is the infant school when well conducted. 

Fourth. But this intercourse must not be at random. 
It must be correctly systematized, and narrowly super- 
intended and watched, by well-instructed and habitu- 
ally moral persons. 

Fifth. The mother's own relation to the infant charge 
should be marked by affection, cheerfulness, mirth, and 
that activity of invention which delights and keeps 
alive the infant faculties. 

Sixth. The infants should be permitted to play to- 
gether out of doors, in unrestnuned freedom; a watch- 
ful eye being all the while kept upon the nature and 
manner of their intercourse. 

Seventh. Unceasmg encouragement should be given 
to the practice of generosity, gentleness, mercy, kind- 
ness, honesty, truth, and cleanliness hi personal habits ; 

«id all oocaaioiis of qiu«rel» or oniellf » or teadl, or 
ftlaihooct flhovld be amiutdy and patiMitlj tmniiMd 
into, and the moral balance, irken orenet^ raatorad; 
wbile, on the oAer band, all indelioacj, iiltbiafw^ 
MioneaB, co^etouaneis, nnfaimeia, diahoneatj, yiobaaa^ 
armelty, maolenoe» Tanity, cowardi6a« and obatinaof , 
aboald berejMreeaed by all tbe moral police of tUa himA 
oommunity. No instance abould oTor be paased ow. 

Eighth. There ought to be mnoh we]l-rq;«]atod 
muscular exercise in the play of the infants, which 
should be as much as possible m the open air. 

Umih. Their school-hall and nuTMoy shoold be 
laige, and regularly yentilated when they are out of h^ 
and when they ore in it, if the weather permits; aad 
the importance of ventilation, air, exercise, and deaiH 
liness, should be unceasingly illustrated and impressed 
i^on them as a habit and a duty. « 

'Bsnth. Erery means id early imphmting taste and 
refinement should be employed; for these are good 
pre^occupants of the soil, to the exclusi(m of the coarse- 
Mss of vice. 

The play-ground should be neatly laid out with bor- 
ders for flowers, shrubs, and fruit-trees, tasteful (Hun- 
ments erected, such as statues, founts, and the like» 
which the coarse-minded are so prone to destroy, and 
the infants habituated not only to respect, but to ad- 
mire and delight in them; while the entire absenoe of 
guard or restraint will give them the feeling thai they 
are confided in, and exercise yet higher feeb^ thaa 
taste and refinement 

Sla?eBtb. The too prevalent cruelty of the yomig 
ta mimab often from mere thoughtlessness, may be 
prevented by many lessons on the subject, and by cher- 
ishing the actual habit of kindness to pets kept for the 
pnipose* such as a dog, a cat, rabbits, ducks, &c., and 
by permitting them to hear all cruelty, even to reptiles, 
reprobated by their teacher and by their companions. 
An insect or reptile, not poisonous, ought never to be 
permitted to be killed or tortured. The habit acquired 
by brothers of teasing then: sisters should never be 

Twelfth. The practice of teasing idiots or imbecile 
persons in families, or in the streets, ought to be held 
in due reprobation, as imgenerous and cruel. In the 
same way, other hurtful practices, even those which 
are the vices of men advanced in years, may be pre- 
vented by anticipaticMi. 

For example, ardent spirits-drinking may, for the 
three or four years of infant training, be so constantly 
reprobated in precepts, illustrative stories of the moth- 
er or teacher, and the ready acquiescence of the whole 
establishment, as to be early and indissolubly associat- 
ed with poison and crime ; instead of being, as is now 
too much the case, held up to the young as the joy 
and privilege of mankind. 

Thirteenth. Many prejudices, fears, and superstitions 
which render the great mass of the people intractable, 
may be prevented from taking root by three or four 
years' contrary impressions ; superstitious terrors, the 
supernatural agencies, and apparitkm of witches and 

280 bdvoahoh or DAveHtnus. 

ghosts, distrust of the benevolent advances of the richer 
classes, suspicions envyings, absurd self-sufficiencies 
and vanities, and many other hurtful and anti-social 
habits of feeling, may be absolutely excluded, and a 
capacity of much higher moral principle established in 
their stead." 


" It has often of late been to me an interesting inquiry, 
why so few of our daughters are prepared for missionary 
life ; why, when a young missionary looks around upon 
the society in which he is accustomed to mingle, for a 
suitable companion to accompany him as the partner 
of his joys and sorrows to far-distant lands, is he com- 
pelled so often to search through the length and breadth 
of the land before he can find one qualified and willing 
to join him in his labor of love ? I appeal to mothers 
for answers to these queries — ^to mothers to whom are 
committed the training of the heart and mind for the 
service of the Saviour. 

I have thought the answer might be found in the 
fact that there is, at the present day, a great mistake 
pervading the minds of the community on this subject. 
Is not the opinion too prevalent that a high standard 
of excellence is not required for the performance of the 
common duties of life ? 

Christian mothers are educating two classes of Chiw- 


tian daughten. By far the larger class are preparing 
for usefulness, it is to be hoped — but for usefulness at 
home. While here and there a solitary daughter of 
Zion consecrates herself to missionary work, and we 
look upon her almost as the being of another world ; 
and her education is carefully directed, and those habits 
are formed which will best prepare her for the situa- 
tion she is about to fill. 

Now suppose each pious mother, ' as a new bud of 
immortality blooms ' within her dwelling, accepts the 
gift with the feeling that this loyed treasure is to be 
cultivated for God ; is to be tramed for missionary life ; 
is to develop that character which shall fit her for the 
quiet duties of domestic life, and that active benevo- 
lence which will make her a ministering angel in the 
abodes of poverty and degradation ; that she is to be 
educated for any Htuation which God in his holy prov- 
idence may call her to fill. 

Let mothers cultivate the feeling that their beloved 
children are committed to them in trust, to be prepared 
to become co-workers with the Redeemer in extending 
the triumphs of his cross through the earth, and we 
should not see so many shrinking from the sacrifice 
when called upon to relinquish their loved ones for this 
blessed work. Siud a mother who professes to love 
the service of her Lord, to one entrusted with the edu- 
cation of her daughters, ' Do all you can to bring my 
children m Christ's family, but you must not mduce 
them to become missionaries.' Does not this lan- 
guage, existing in the heart of many a Christian mother^ 

9ltiSaog\j illustrate the truth of my remark, tbat imo 
oloiflffl of female diadples are eduoatisg in the dravch ? 
And does not the fact that so many of our daugl^en, 
when urged to think of th^ personal interest in the 
subjeot, meet you with the remark, ' We have not the 
qufdifications for missionary life ; we are only fit to re- 
mam at home,' most convincingly point us to this great 
mistake as the cause of this low standard of Christiaa 
feeling and duty ? 

The truth is, while we agree to pray, that the empel 
baviBg the everlasting Gospel to preach unto them wiM> 
dwell on the earth may speed his fight, we, who an 
training the generation that are to be the great inatni- 
meats in the world's conversion to Christianity, forget, 
or seem to forget, that to effect this, ' our sons shonkl 
he as plants grofwn up in their youth ; our daughters eu 
tomer^Umea polished after the similitude of a paiaos ;* 
and that they must be educated with the sentiment, 
Imtten as with a sunbeam on their hearts, * Ye are 
iiat your own — ^ye are bought with a price ; therefore 
glonfy God in your body and in your spirits, which are 
God's.' It may be that oiur children shall never be 
eallad to the duties and trials of missionary life, but 
thus educated, they will be prepared, whatever their 
atetioiis in life may be, or however solemn the respon- 
sibffities which may cluster around them, to scatter life 
and salvation in the pathway of many a wanderer — ^to 
fightm the burden of many a weary soul ; and when 
tteir eonrse on earth is ended, and they are called to 
join m the triumphaat song of praise in hea^eOi the 

Bwuioious mpjosefOovB. fi)$ 

hlmsmg of mwf comforted, strengthened, and i 

jbf their Christian eounsek and efforts^ will foUow then 

%^ tibe throne of &pd:' 


** Thx subject of parental responsibility, which has for- 
merly been so unperfectly appreciated, and still more 
imp^ectly practiced, b, at the present day, frequent^ 
sad powerfolly presented for consideration. Yet theie 
is no danger of exhausting the subject. To r^eetillg 
mrnds, and especially those of parents, it must xise to 
importance in proportion as it is dwelt upon. 

No parents, then, need hesitate in bringing fonrafd 
the fruits of their observation and experience. Al- 
though I haye read much, thought much, and heaid 
much ; yet the subject now presents itself with the 
firmness and force of a new idea, particularly on the 
point of maternal responsibility. When I look at it, it 
mems as if the character, the present and eternal wel- 
.finre of the rising generation, were placed almost exchi- 
sively and unqualifiedly in the hands of mothers. This 
oonyiction is not the result of abstract reflection, but 
of actual observation. God has, indeed, be^ pleased 
to recover to himself some who have not been brought 
to him in his appointed way. With regard to thooe 
who, we have reason to fear, have be^ lost* and to 
those who we now see in the broad wigr to destmctifliiy 


we may cbaDenge the scmtiny €i an accnrate mqinrer ; 
and we would not fear for the gronnd which we take, 
that among that unhappy number, few wiU be found 
who were blest m^judidaua, pUnu, praying mooters, 
who had the training of the first years of their chil- 
dren's life. 

In reply to this, it may be said, we have known or 
heard of many of the children of pious parents who 
haye lived and died irreligious. But if these cases were 
to be individually and faithfully investigated, a very 
different impresdon would remain on the mind. Among 
those who are nominal professors, how many realize as 
they ought theu* duties and responsibilities ? Some- 
times these examples, which are held up to disprove 
the argument, may have been the children of a pious 
fother, but not of a pious mother ; or the mother may 
have become pious after the children had passed that 
early and unpressible period, withm which the rudi- 
ments of the character are formed. And there are 
also pious parents who have not suitably estimated or 
fulfilled these duties, and so far have committed sin. 

Again, there are some who have appeared, in their 
childhood, to have enjoyed faithful religious instruction, 
and pious prayers and example, and yet have been 
among those who are wandering far from God, and 
throwing off all the restraint of education and con- 
sdence. But if you will observe their course, you will 
find that among the converted and recovered wander- 
ers, those who have had these advantages form muoh 
the greater proportion. 

• BXi^oioirB mpBnsiONS. 285 

I am led to trace the history of such an indi?idiiaL 
little E. had the misfortune of losing his excellent moth* 
et hef ore he reached his sixth year. Although, during 
his infantile years, her health had been so imperfect 
as to interfere with the discharge of her maternal du- 
ties, yet she had ofifered her children in faith to God. 
She had aimed to instill into their minds, on the first 
dawning of reason, a sense of their obligations and 
duties to their Creator, of whom she spoke to them as 
their Heavenly Father — their kind Preserver, and 
bountiful Benefactor. She cultivated sentiments of 
devotion by storing their nunds with forms of prayer, 
and instructive hymns suited to their comprehension. 
And these instructions seemed to fall on good ground^ 
and promised to bring forth fruit ; and were not only 
thus implanted, but were watered with importunate 
prayers and tears. It pleased God, whose ways to us 
are inscrutable, to bereave this child of this precious 
bluing ; and he was left, as it were, at the mercy of 
a wicked world, or as a helpless lamb without a shep- 
herd. Little E. was left very much to the society and 
baneful example and influence of imprincipled servants. 
Soon all the gentle admonitions and pious instructions 
ci his mother were effaced from his volatile mind. His 
conscience, which was once alive and tender, was soon 
seared ; and when he was led into evil, he had no 
compunctions. As might be expected, as he advanced 
in years, he advanced in din, from wanton mdulgence, 
mchecked and unrestrained. As he progressed to- 
ward manhood, snares thickened around him, and he 

2U A xoraan s unm. ' 

was thfown among evil companicnui. He advanced 
frwKk one stage d wiekedness to another, and stOl sn- 
Other, with feaifol strides. The cavilen enjoyed the 
trfnmph of saymg, ' There is the child of a pious moth- 
ef/ They may enjoy this triui^ph. But in after 
yean, if lliey beheld this yonth m his headlong career 
arrested — if they oonld see the tears of contrition whieh 
he was brought to shed, and hear hun recall his early 
impressions reoeiyed from the lips of his tender moth- 
er, especially her dying advice, which, amidst all his 
wanderings, would sometimes recur — would they not 
yield their prejudices, and acknowledge that early im- 
pw ss i ops may xadically a£Fect the character and destiay 



A xoTHEs's loTe ! the fodelesB light 

Thai glimmers o'er our weary way ; 
A star amid the olonds of night, 

An ever-huning, qnenehleai ray. 
A guarding power, thro' good and ill. 

Where'er the traant footsteps roye ; 
A eeaseless, Sowing, sparkling rill, 

A fomt of hope-*a mother's lore. 

A mothfir's lore^it wMspen iint 
Ahoye the cradled infant's head. 

And when those hnman blossoms burst. 
Her bosom's stiH the flowxet's bed. 


Whin tiiiir bnght flommer d»7 hM pMl, 

And ftaianm dloada hang dnrfc above. 
It lingers ronnd as to tho Init, 

That deaiwt lKM>n— a motbur'i loiw. 

And yet how oft our tootabepi roam. 

Through pleasnre's bright, aUnring man, 
Forgetftd of the ties of home, 

And all the Joys of earlier days ! 
Bat there's a ohann to lure them baek. 

And like the weaiy, wandering dow, 
The heart re-wings its ehildhood's tmdE, 

To that one ark, a motiMr's loto. 

** O, teH me not of maiden's lore. 
That earth nor time ean seyer, 
Tliat deep within some gentle heart 
Bums brightly and for ever. 

Nor yet of manhood's changeless fMi, 
Thai first in yonth was plighted, 

Whieh ne'er is dimmed by eare or age, 
And ne'er by eoldness blighted* 

These hare thehr charms, but well I taiow 
The heart that feels no sorrow, 

May by miafortone's withering blow 
Be broken ere to-morrow. 

And well I know by cold neglect 
The fairest flower will langnish ; 

And nnkind looks from those we loye. 
Oft rend the heart with angnish. 

Bat there's a pnro and holy flame. 
That eoldness ne'er can smother ; 

And there's a charm of sacred power 
DweUs in the name of moxbbe ! 

•S8S ^▲ mothxe'b loyb. 

May, thongli all oilier friendfl depui. 
E'en those we loved and oheriflhed. 

She twines around the drooping heart, 
Till its last bright hepe hath perished. 

She who hath watched the eradMied 

Where infiuioj is lying, 
Gontly she soothes the aching head. 

When that same fonn is dying. 

O, think thon not that ties like these 
Death's icy toaoh can sever ; 

Tliongh sorrow dims the spirit's glow, 
Tme love shall last for ew."— -Airoii. 


« Oh ! in our sterner manhood, when no say 
Of earlier snnshine glinmien on onr way ; 
When girt with sin and sorrow, and the toil 
Of cares, which tear the bosom that they soil ; 
Oh ! if there be in restrospection's chain 
One link that knits ns with yovng dreams i 
One thought so sweet, we scarcely dare to i 
On all the hoarded raptures it reTiews ; 
Which'seems each instant, in its backward range. 
The heart to soften and its ties to change. 
And eveiy spring nntoaohed for years to nova, 

It if— ThK MSHOBT of a MoTBBE'B liOTI !"— B. 


, ana Tbeoiogj. 

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leading periodicals of this country. Is well quaHfled, from a prolonged resi- 
tonoe In France, his Ikmiliarity with its Literature, and by a personal ae- 

Snaintance wifli manv of these authors, to introduce the work of De Viricour 
> file American pubHc 

•*Thls is the only complete treatise of the kind on this snl^eet, either lit 
Fmch or EngBsh, and has received the hif^est commendation. Mr. Chase to 
wdl qnalifled to introduce the work to the public. The book cannot flOl to or 
boftnacAd and popular.'* -iTeis Tork Mvmd^ P9»L 



A selection of the choicest productioiu of Engluh Aathon, 
from the eariiest to the present time ; Connected by a Criti- 
cal and Biographical History. Edited by Bobbrt Chambkbs. 
In two Tois. octaTo, vith upwards of 800 elegant illn^trationB. 
Price, in cloth, $5.00. 
V Th« Pnbllihcn of the AMERICAN Xdltbrn of fhli Tilnabte work dMiiv 
to •tate, tlmt, bMldM Om numerooi ptctorial ffloatniloiu fai fhe BngUdi Editim, 
tbtj hwr* gready enitehed th« woric by the addition of Una itoeland mexiollKt 
cnstrnTtngi of the heada of Shakapaara, Addlaon, Bjma% a ftdl length pcntnil 
of Dr. Johnwm, and a beaatlftal iccnle xepxeaentation of OliTor Goldnnith and 
Dr. Johnion. Theie elegant addition! together with anpcilor paper and bind- 
lag mnit give thia a decided preference orer all other cditiona. 

** We hall with pecnllar pleaaure the appeannee of thla work,aad meitt capae* 
ially Iti lepahUeatlon in thla conntnr at a price which placef it within the 
■aaoh of a great nuaber of icadata, and fbr wnieh thej oan axpaot to be xemn* 
nemtad on^ by a veiy eztendTe aala." 

** The aelectiona glTcn by Mr. Chambetf from the worha of the eariy En^isH 
writers are coploua, and Jadldonily made. • « « • * We ahaU eonclnde aa wa 
oommenoed, with expreaaing a hope that ttia publication which haa called 
forth our remarks will exert an tnilnence In directing the attention of fiha 
pabile totheliteratnreof onrftncflithen.'* — Jn>r(A>liiier<e<miteriew. 

CHAMBERS'S MISCELLANY of Useful and Entertaining 
Knowledge, with elegant illnstratiye ensrayings. Edited by 
William Chambbbs. Ten Tolnmes, cloth. Price $10,00 
%* The dealgn of fha Misobzxakt la to anpply the inoieaalng demand fiv 
naeftil, InalrudiTe, and entertaining reading, and to bring all the aid* of Utarn- 
tiua to bear on «ft« cmltimiiUmqftke/MktgMamAimdertUmdiitff ^(Ae jMopla— 
to Impreaa eonect Tlewa on important moral and aodal qneatlona — anppreaa 
ereiy apeeiea of atrifs and aarageiy — cheer the lagf^g and desponding l^ Iha 
rrialion of talea drawn from the imagination of popular writers — ronaa ttia 
fliney by deacriptions of Intereatlng fbreign aeenea — glTC a sett to erery-day 
oeenpaflona by ballad and lyrical poetry — in ahmt, to fVimiah an nnobtnulva 
friend and gnide, a IWely flreaide companion, aa fer aa that object can ba 
attained throng tha inatmmentality of hooka. 

small books, elegantly iilnminated. Edited by William 
Chambers. Each yolnme forms a complete work, embel- 
lished with a fine steel engraving, and is sold separately. 
18mo. Price 87K cents. 

ORLANDINO : A Story of Self-DeniaL By Mabia Edoewobsb. 

THE UTILE ROBINSON : And other Tales. 


JACOPO : Tales by ^flss Edgewobtr and others. 

TRUTH AND TRUST. Jerris Byland— Victor and Lisette. 



[t^ (XUr vobmm are mprtpanoiom 


THE PBE-ABAHITE EARTH: Gontributiont to TlMoIogM 
Science. 12mo. Price 86 oents. 

«*& b • book ftr fUnldiiff Men." It optu new tnliif of thoo^ to flit 
Noder — pnti him in * new potltion to saiTeT the wonden of Qoa'a woiln t 
and eompeti Natnnl Sdenoe to bear her deeldea teetimony in rapp<nt of DItIim 
Tknlh."— J*Mi«totpMaCik.abMrMr. ^ 

HAN PBDfEVAL; Or, the Constitatioii and PrhnitiTe Condi- 
tion of the Hnnum Being. A Contribution to Theological 8e»> 
enoe. With a finely engrared portrait of tiie author ; 12ino. 
cloth, price $1.26. " ^ ' 

*«* This if the eeeond TOlttme of e ferfee of worici on ^eologlcel Sdence. 
Hie em wm reeeifed with mnch fliTOr — the present is a oontlnaatlon of the 
piinetples which were seen holding their way thronch the sneeesrfTO Unsdonu 
of piimeTal nstnre, and are heie leenmed and exhibited In their next hi^ber 
applieatlon to indivldoal nan. 

iooaand beantif nl fflnaballonfl of tfao w wotad i u lawa of the DiTino 
^ haTO yielded vs Inexpicsaible delight." ~ Lomd. Sehate M^ttem, 

TEOS, GftEAT COMMISSION; Or, the Christian Church consti- 
tuted and charged to convey the Gospel to the World. A Prize 
Essay. With an Introductory Essay, by W. R. Wiluams, D.D. 
Sixth thousand. 12mo. Price $1.00. 
** Of the sereial prodnctfons of Dr. Hairia,— all of them of great Talne. -4kaX 
aow before as is desttned, probably, to exert the most powiifhl Inllaenee in 
forming the religious and misilonary character of the eonung genenttons. But 
the Tast fund of aimment and Instmctlon comprised In time pages will ezolto 
the admiration ana Inspire the gratltade of thousands in oor own land as well 
asinEoiope. Svery clergyman and pions and reflecting layman ooiht to po»> 
aass the volame, and make It fiunUarliy repeated penuaL»-ihM«oi» Jfoeonbr. 

THE GREAT TEACHER: Or, Characteristics of our Lord's 
Ministry. With an Introductory Essay, by H. Humphbbt, D.D. 
Tenth uiousand. 12mo. Price 86 cents. 

** The book Itself nwrt haTO cost mnch meditation, mnch oommnnion on flio 
bosom of Jesns, and much prayer. Its style is, like the countxr which gare it 
bbth, beaotifhl, Taried, flnished, and everywhere delightful. But the s^le of 
this woik bits smallest excellence. It will be read: It ought to be read. It will 

luch prayer. Its style is, like the country w 
, flnished, ^nd eyerywhere deligbtfuL But 

iexcellence. It will be read: itought tobe r 

fold ite wey to many parlon, and add to the comforts of many a happy flreslde. 
The reader will rise ftom eaeh chapter, not able, perhaps, to cany with him 
■lany striking remarks or apparent paradoxes, but he will haye a sweet Im- 
brsarion made upon his soul, like that which soft and touching mnde makao 
when eyery thing about it is appropriate. The writer pours ftnrth a clear and 
boanlifol light, like that of the eyening lighthouse, when it sheds its rays vpon 
ttMslaepingwatonLandeoyenthemwlth asnxfooeof gold, we can haye no 
armpa^y with a heart which yields not to Impressions delicate and holy, 
«^d£lM perasal of this work win natnsdly make.'* --An«M*^ 

MISCELLANIES ; Consisting principally of Sermons and Essays. 
With an introductory Essay and notes, by J. Bklohbb, D.1). 
16ma Price 76 cents. 

« Some of these essays are among the flnesi In Che Umgoaget andlhewwmth 
■nd eneigy of religious fleellng manlftsted, render them peenllaily the teeasve 
«r Che ckMot and the Christian flreslde.'* -itaN0or C9t(we<«8. 

MAMMON ; Or, Coyetoameas, the Shi of the Christian Chuieh. 
A Price Essay. 18mo. Price 45 cents. Twentieth thousand. 

2EBUL0N; Or, fb» Moral Ohdma of Seamen stiMt and «ii- 

Airoed. ISmo. Price tt o«iti. 
ras ACrmfi christian; Contahdng ^'Tlie WitMMlBS 

Cbnehy'^atob Itaflb Piioe SI ocnti. , 


In itii gOTemment and simple in its worship. By Ltmajt 
OOLBMAX. With an introductory essay, by Dr. Auoustus 
KsANDBB, of Berlin. Second Edit 12mo. cloth. Price $1.26. 
Drom the i^ ■ ^ ^^o n te Amdooer TkeologSeal Skmimarif, 
* TIm undanlncd an ptosMd to b«w that joa are toon tojmbllih a new 
•dMra of (he * FrimitiT* ChareV bj Ltvak Colbmak. TEct renrd tU» 
volanM aa tiM mult of aztBiMlTo and orighial raMarehf a« ambodjBng rtrf 
Impovlaat matoriala for nferenoa, mndi lound thought and conclndTC aign- 
mant In their aatimation, tt may both tnterest and initract the inteUigent 
lajmaa, maj be profltablj naed ai a Text Book fbr Theological Stndenti,'" 
and should eepeelallj I6nn a part of the librariei of clezgTmen. The intn>- 
daetlon, bj IfBAVOu, is of itself suAcient to recommend the Tolnme to 
tta Uteiiuy pubUc" Lioitabd Woooa, Bkla & EowABoa, 

RAI.FH Embbsob, Edvabd a. Fabk. 

the Doctrines and Practices of Baptist Churches. By Rer. 
William C&owbll. ISmo. Cloth. Price 37i cents. 

«• We have never met with a book of this ate that eoatainad so foil and 'eooaplsls a 
snmpois of the Doetrinco and Practice of the Baplkt, or an/ otber ebuieh, as thia. Mr. 
Oiowi U la one or the nbleat writers in the denomination, aiid if thero la a aubjoa In the 
wlwie range of Christianity which be ia preeminently qua! Med to dhciiaa, it k the eae 
before iw. The • Hand Book ' la not en afaridfment of the • Chareh Member'a Maa> 
ual,* bgr the aane author, but la written ezpieaaly aa a brief, plain guide to jrouog mea»« 
ben of the church. It appean to have been prepared with much care and lalwr, and 
Is Jest auch a book aa la needed bjr every youn|r church member ; we might safely addt 
and by moat of the older members in the denombiation ; for there la a vast amoaat of 
infonnatkm la k that will be found of pnetieal nae to all." — Ckriaffon flto al ary . 

*' It Is concise, clear, and comorehensive ; and, aa an exposition of eceleslastlcBl pifa* 
eMea and praelios, la wotthy or careful study of all the young members ofoareburdua. 
we hope k may be widely circulated, and that the youthful thoosands of our Isml 
■Mj beeome hroiliar with its pages." — Watehpian amd R^Uetor. 

THE CHURCH IK EARNEST; By John Anoell James. 
18mo. cloth ; price 60 cents. 

** A TCiy seasonable pnbllcatlon. The ehnrch nniTenal needs a le-airakenlBC 
to Its high Tocatfon, and this Is a book to effect, so far as hninan Intellect can,flie 
mneh desired resuscitation.*' — N, T, Obm. Adv. 

••We are Khui to see that this snbieet has arresfed tfaa penof Mr. James. W« 
wetoome and commend It. I«t It be scattered Uke autnmn leares. We beUeve 
Hi pemsal will do mueh to impress a conviction of the high mission of th« Chaih 
tlan(and much to arouse the Christian to fkdfll it." — ATF. Jtoeoreler. 

•• We rejoice that this work has been republished in this county, and we eaa- 
nottoo stronglj commend it to the serious perusal of the ehnrehes of ertiy 
aame.'* cKriseion ^lUoaee. 

•• Mr. Jamesli writings all haye one object, to do exeentfon. He writes nnder 
the impulse — Do something, do it He studies not to be a proftrand or learned, 
bat a practical writer. He aims to raise the standard of piety, holiness In tihe 
heart, and holiness of lift. The influence which this work will exert on the 
flhuw must be highly satutai/.** — .Boston Recorder, 

Edited bj Rev. J. 0. Choulbs. New Emtion ; with an Intix)- 
dnotory Essay, bj B«?. H. WniSLOW. 18mo. cloth. Price 88 ^ 

A pastor writes — *'I rineerely wish that erery professor of religion in the 
Imd mi^ possess this excellent mannaL I am anxious that erery member 
of mj chnreh should possess it, and shall be happy to promote iti drcnlattoB 
ilill more extenslTely.'' 

••The spontaneous eAirfonof onr heart, on laying the book down, was,— 
aar ererr church-member in our land soon possess tUs book, and be blessed 

wifli aU die happiness which eonlbmity to Its eranffsUo — ^ ' '' 

MssMbmIs «d«aliM to eonte.'* - OhHiUm Beenktm* 


THE EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT, in its rolAtion to God 
and the Universe. By Thomas W. Jenkyk, D.D. 12mo. 
oloth. Price 86 cents. 

** We hETC examined thit work with profband interett and become deeply 
impresMd with its value. Its style ii Incid, its analjaia perftet, it* ■piiit and 
tendenciea eminently eva,ngelical. We have nowhere elae aeen the aloM- 
ment eo clearly defined, or vindieated on grounds eo appreciable." 

New York Beeorder. 

* As a treatise on the grand relation of the Atonement, it is a book which 
may be emphatically said to contain the * seeds of things,' tiie elements of 
mightier and nobler contributions of thought respecting the sacrifice of Christ, 
than any modem production. It is characterized by highly original and 
dense trains of thousht, which make the reader feel that he is holding com- 
munion with a mind that can * mingle with the uniyerse.* We consider this 
▼olume as setting the long and fiercely agitated question, as to the extent of 
the Atonement, completely at rest Posterity will thank the author till the 
latest ages, for his illustrious ai^uments." — JVew York EvangelisL 


in the Conversion of the World. By Thomas W. Jenktk, 
D.D. 12mo., cloth. Price 86 cents. 

** The discussion Is eminently scriptural, placing Its grand theme, the mikni 
of the Holy Spirit an'd the Church in the conyerslon of the world, in ft ftrf 
clear and uTecting light" — Okriatian Watchman. 

** A very excellent work upon ft very important subject The author seems 
to haye studied it In all its bearings, as presented to Ids contemplation in the 
sacred yolnme." — London Evangelical Magazine. 

body of Christians for ft book whlchwill 
greatly benefit the world and the church." — London EvangeUgt, 

ANTIOCH ; Or, Increase of Moral Power in the Church of 
Christ. By Rev. P. Church. With an Introductory Essay, 
by Baron Stow, D.D. 18mo., cloth. Price 60 cents. 

** It is a book of close and consecutiye thought, and treats of subjects which 
«re of the deepest interest, at the present time, to the churches of this conutiy. 
The author is fayorably known to the religious public, as an original thinker, 
and a forcible writer." — Chrittian Rtjlector. 

" By some ti&is book -will be condemned, by many it will be read with 
pleasure, because it analyzes and renders tangible, principles that have been 
yacuely conceived in many minds, reluctantly promulgated, and hesitatingly 
befieved. We advise our brethren to read the book, and judge for them- 
•elyes." — BapUat Beeord. 

* It is the work of an original thinker, on a subject of great practical interest 
to the church. It is replete with suggestions, which, in our view, are emi- 
nently worthy of consideration." —Phua. Christian Obterver. 

With an Introductory Essa^, by T. (5halmbrs, D.D. A new 
and improved edition. Edited by H. Malcom, D.D. ISmc, 
cloth. Price 88 cents. 

SAaTORius, D. D. Translated from the German, by Rev. 
O. S. Stearns, A. M. Cloth. 42 cents. 

** A work of macb ability, and preientingr the argnment Id a ityle that 
will be new to roost American readeis, it will deiervedly attract atten- 
tion."— JV. r. Observer. 

** Fine talent, sound learning, and scriptural piety perrade eveiy page. It it 
impossible that it can be read without producing great efiSects. Mr. Jenkyi 
deserves the thanks of the whole body of Christians for a book which wU 


on Christian Missions, by American Authors. Edited by 
BABOir Stow, D.D. 12mo., cloth. Price 86 cents. 

••Ifwederired to mitlntothe hjuidaof aftiwigner afairczhlbitfoaof th« 
anpaciQr and iplrlt of the Amcrieaii chareh, we would giye Um this Tolume. 
Ton haTe here thrown together a few dleconreet, preached ftom time to Ume^ 
hf diArent iadiTiduala, of different denominattons, as clrcumstancei have 
damanded them i and you lee the stature and fccl the pulse of the Ameiieaa 
Obnrch in theee diseouncfl with a certaintj not to be nutakeB. 

** Ton see the hi^ talent of the Amerieaa church. We venture the leeer- 
HoBf that no nation In the world haa inch an amount of forceftilT avidiabla 
talent in Iti pulpit The enewr, directncoi, scope, and intellectual spirit of 
the American church Is wonderfViL In thfs book, the discourMe br Dr. 
Beecher. Fres. Wajland, and the Bct. Dr. Stone of the Episcopal chuxen, are 
among the rerr highest exhibitions of logical correctness, and burning, popur 
lar fcrror. This Tolnme wiU have a wide drenlattoo.''— TRe New Bngumdtr, 

** This woric eontidns Hfteen sermons on MQssions, by Bar. Drs. Wayland, 
Qiifln, Anderson, Williams, Beecher. Miller, FuUer, Beman, Steoe. Mamm^ 
and bj BeT. Messrs. Kiric, Stow, and Ida. It Is a rich treasure, which ought 
tB be In the poeseeeloa of every American GhxlBlian.'*—OvwiiMiBvt»A : 

THE GREAT COMMISSION ; Or, the Christian Church consti- 
tnted and eharsed to conyey the Gospel to the world. A Prise 
Essay. By John Harbis, D.D. With an Introductory Essay, 
by w. B. Williams, D.D. Sixth thousand. 12mo.,clotL 
Price $1.00. 

*• lOs plan is original and oomprehenalTa. In flUlng it up ttie anther baa 
Interwoven fhds with rieh and glowing illustrations, and with mine of 
thought that are sometimes almost resistless in their appeals to the conseienea. 
The worlc is not more distinguished for its arguments and its genius, tiian fw 
tha spirit of deep and fervent piety that pervades it.**— The Jk^tprmo* 

" Its style Is remarkably chaste and elegant Its sentiments ricUy and iiv* 
yantly evangelieal, its argumentation conclusive.*' — Zitn^t Herald, Botttn, 

** To recommend this woric to the Mends of missions of all denominationa 
would be but faint praise t the author deserves and wiU undoubtedly receive 
ttie credit of having applied a new lever to that great moral machine whicl^ 
bgr the blessing of Ood, is destined to evangelise the world." 

CMHtlkM decretory* Bartfbrd. 

"We hope that the volume will be attentively and prsyerfhlly read by tfaa 
tiliole chmrch, which are clothed with the •• Great Commission ** to evangelixa 
the worid, and that they will be moved to an immediate discharge <rf its high 
■ad momentous obiigattona. — N. E. FwrUaHf itaston. 

THE KAREN APOSTLE ; Or, Memoir of Ko Thah-Btv, the 
first Karen conyert with notices concerning his Nation. By the 
Bey. Francis Mason. Edited by Prof. B. J. Biplbt. Fifth 
thousand. 18mo., cloth. Price 25 cents. 

" This is a work of thrillina interest, containing the history of a remarkaUa 
man, and giving, also, muchlut>rmatton respecting the Karen Mission, hera- 
lofbre unlcnown in this country. It gives an account, which must 1m attrao- 
tive, from its novelty, of a people that have been but little known and visited 
bymissionaries, till within a few years. The baptism of Ko Thah-Byu, ia 
IMS, was the beginning of the mission, and at the end of these twelve yean^ 
twelve hundred and seventy Karens are o£fidaUy reported as members of th« 
cthurches. In good stsndltag. The mission has been carried on pre-eminent]j 
by the Karens themselves, and there is no doubt, from much touching evf- 
dance cont^ned in this v<dume, that thef u* * people peculiarly susceptibU 
to reUidoiu Impressions.'* 


MEMOIR OF ANN H. JUBSON. late Missioniuy to Bnrmali. 
By Rev. James D. Kkowuss. With a likeness. 12mo., fine 
Editioii, price 86 cents. 18mo. Price 68 cents. 

•* W« ftrs partlcalarly gimtiflcd to pereeWe a new edition of the Hemoin of 
IbB. Jndeoii. She wm tn honor to onr oonntnr — one of the moet noUe- 
■pirited «f her wz. It cannot, therefore, be surnrMng, that lo many editions, 
•nd lo many thonia^d eopiet of her lift and adTcntnres luiTe been eold. 
The name — the long eaieerof suAeiing— the lelf-sacriilcinK spirit of the 
retired oonntiy-girl, liave spread over the whole world ; and the heroism of 
her apostieahip and almost martyrdom, stands out a liTing and heayenly 
beaeon-flre, amid flie dark midnight of ages, and homan history and exploits. 
She was the first womcm who resolved to become a missionary to heathen 
flonntries.^ —Ameriecm Traveller, 

** TIUs Is one of «he most interesting jdcces of ftmale biography which has 
«ver come under onr notice. No quotation, which onr limits aUow, would do 
Justice to the ftets, and we most, therefore, refor our readers to the TolnnM 
Unit It ought to be immediately added to ereiy (kmily library." 

London MbceUtmtf, 

to Bonnah, containing much intelligence relative to the Bar- 
man mission. By Rev. Alonzo Kino. Embellished with a 
Likeness; a beautiful Visnette, representing the baptismal 
scene just before his deam ; and a drawing of his tomb. By 
Bev. H. Maloom, D.D. 12mo. Price 76 cents. 

« One of the brightest luminaries of Burmah is ezttngnbhed — dear brotiier 
Boardman is gone to his eternal rest He fell gloriously lU the head of his 
troops — in the arms of Tletonr, — thirty-eight wild Karens haTine been 
brought into the eamp of king Jesus since the beginning of the year, Msidee 
the thirty-two that were brought In during the two preceding yeaxe. IMa- 

abled br wounds, he was obliged, through the whole of the kst eiq>edition, to 
be earned on a Utter i but his presence was a host, and the Holy Spirit ace — 
panled his dying whispers with almighty InHnenee.** — JSev. Dr, /wismi. 

Female Missionary to China. By Bey. J. B. Jeteb. With a 
Likeness. Fonrth thousand. 18mo. Price 60 cents. 

"llie style of the author Is sedate and perspieuous, such as we ml|^ 
tzpecC ftom his known piety and learning, his attachment to missions, and 
the amiable lady whose memory he embalms. The book will be extensively 
read and eminentiy useful, and thus the ends sought br the autiior will be 
happily secured, we think we are not mistaken in this opinion. Those 
wno are interested In China, that large opening fleld for the glorious oon- 
queste of divine truth, will be interested in this Memoir. To the friends of 
misrtons generally, the book is commended, as worthy of an attentive pem- 
■aL" — The FamOv Vintor^ Boeton, 

in West Africa, amone the Bossas, Inclndine a History of the 
Mission. By B. B. medbsbt. With a likeness. 18mo. 
Price 623^ cents. 

** Our acquaintance with the excellent brotiier, who is the subject of thia 
Memoir, will be tong and fondly cherished. This volume, prepared by a Ick^ 
of true taste and talent, and of a kindred spirit, while it Is but a just tribute 
to his worth, will, we doubt not, funiish lessons of humble and practical pie^, 
and will give such focte relative to the mission to which he devoted his life, as 
to render it woithv a distinguished place amonc flie religious and missionaiy 
Uography which nas so much enriched the famQy of God.** — WatdUnan. 


TH£ PSALMIST: A Hew CoUaction of Hymns, for the iis« 

of the Baptist Chorehes. By Babom Stow and S. F. Smith. 

Assisted by W. R. Williams, Geo. B. Ide, B. W. Griswcdd, 

S. P. HiU, J. B. Taylor, J. L. Dam, W. T. Brantly, R. B. C. 

HbweD, Samael W. Lynd, and John M. Peck. 

Pnlpit edition, Umo. sheep. Price ^1.25. Pew edition. 18ibo., 
76 cents. Pocket edition, 82mo., 66AC cts. — All the different 
sizes supplied in extra styles of binding at corre^Mmdii^ 

•,«Tliia«eritttia^lwHdd,luab6eomena book of Om Bapltot denoni- 
amon, bATlnc been iatrodneed czftoigiTdj into arciy State ia Um Uaioii, 
Md Om BritUk psorineM. AiaeoUectiiiaiofbTmiisititMidsnBiiTanad. 

TIm wiitod f«tiiiiOB7 of pMlon of the Bi^tbt cluiichet in Borton tad 
"vlBlaitj. In Nev Yotk, and In FhOadelphia, of Ifae mort dadded and flattar- 
iaf clianetcr,]uHbc«nsiTeBiaftTar of thelNK*. Alao, by the Piufc a awi In 
BMiaton Litenuy and Thaolo|^cal Inatttatkni, and the Newton Theolog^eal 
laatttnlios. Tke aame, alio, has been done bj a great nnmber of deziTmcn, 
ahorebca, AfeorleHone, and Conrcntiona, In rrcij State of the Union. 

TbeMlowinf notiee, fiwn the Miami iUaodatfon, «f Ohio, b bat a 9«i- 
Ma «f a boat of othen, TCoalTad bj the pnbliahen t 

* Toor GoBmittae iceonuncnd to the attention of Oa Chnrehee, the new 
vok called • The PiakDist,* at worthy of tpeddl polronane. 1. It <i exeaad- 
inglj derinble that oar whole denomination ehonld lue in the piaiaee of tiio 
aaaaaar7thenniepaalnia,hyinna,aadapizitnalaonga. To aecore nnlfcrmitf, 
we prefcr * The FaalmUt,* becauae it is tbAeHj, and tnm the AMmdation, 
darioned for the nae of Baptist chnreiief, — ia not anrpaiMd by anj Hjun 
Book in the world. S. It baa been prepared wMi the greateat care. In no 
inatanee lias a Hymn BocA gone throng so thoroiu^ a revision, a It is a 
book otmj snpcrior merits. The Committee therefoie recommend to tlM 
chnrehes the adoption of this work as weU caleoiated to eterate the taste and 
the damtion of the denominatjon.* 

, FmuLEB, of Baltimore, and J. B. Jjeteb, of Richmond. (Style 
and prices same as above.) 

%|*This work contains neailj (Atrteen kmtdred k gnuu , original and selected, 
by 179 writers, besides pieces credited to flitf-ilTe collections of hymns or other 
woslu, the anthorship of which is nnknown. Forty-dye are aaooymoas, being 
traeed neither to anthon nor eoUeetions. 

Ths Supplikbvt, occupying the place of tiie Chants, which In many 
aeelions of the country are seldom used, was undertaken by Ber. Messxa. 
rnller and Jeter, at the sollcitetinn of friends at the South. 

** The Psalmist contains a copious supply of excellent hymns tor tho 
pulpit We are acquainted with no collection of hymns combining, in an 
equal degree, .poetic merit, evangelical sentiment, and a rich Tarie^ of sul^ 
jecte, with a happy adaptation to pulfrft services. Old songs, like old ikicnds, 
are more Taluable than new ones. A number of the hymns best known, most 
valued, and most frequently sung in the South, are not found in the Fsidmlst. 
Without them, no hymn book, whatever may be its excellences, is likely lo 
become generally or permanently popular in that region." — Fr^ace. 

Mnsic. Arranged ibr Hymns in * The Psalmbt,* of peonliai 
character and metre. By N. D. Gould. Price 12K centa. 



HOW TO BE A LADY ; A Book for Girls, containing tuefti: 
hints on the formation of character. Fifth thousand. 18mo., 
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<*HaTing danghten of hij own, and haring be«n maaj jean employtti la 
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HIa object ia, to aasist them in forming their chanu:ten upon ue best model ; 
that they may become well-bred. Intelligent, refined, and good ; and then they 
will be real ladies, In the highest sense." — Prtfact. 

** They are fall of wholesome and judicious counsels, which are well fitted to 
preserve the young from the numberless evils to which they are exposed, and 
lomould "^ "~ "" ~' " - ' -• - .- .., _ .^ 

.[> mould them to virtue and usefulness. There is a directness and e 
pervading the whole, which must secure for it a ready access to the youthlU 
mind and heart** — AJhomy JrguM, 

HOW TO BE A MAN; A Book for Boys, containing useful 
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** My design in writing has been to contribute somettdng towards fbnnlng 
the character of those who are to be our Aature electors, lenslators, govem<«i, 
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Intended for boys— or, if you please, for young gentlemen, in early youth, 
ftom eight or ten to fifteen or sixteen years of age." — Prtfact. 

** They contain wise and important counsels and cautions, adapted to tht 
young, and made entertaining by the interesting style and illustrations of Am 
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ANECDOTES FOR BOYS ; Entertaming Anecdotes and Nana- 
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Price 42 cents. 

** Nothing has a greater interest fbr a yonthAil mind than a well-told story, 
and no medium ofconveying moral instructions so attractive or so successftil. 
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that they are true. The book before us is conducted upon these ideas. It b 
made up of a series of anecdotes, every one of which Inculcates some excel- 
lent moral lesson. We cannot too highly approve of the book, or too stronglj 
recommend it to parento." — Western Oonnnent, BaUimore. 

ANECDOTES FOR GIRLS ; Entertaining Anecdotes and Nana- 
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** There is a charm abont these two beantilSil volumes not to be mistaken. 
They are deeply Interesting and instructive, without being fictitious. The 
anecdotes are many, short, and spirited, with a mcral drawn from e ach , some- 
what after the manner of To^a i and no youth can read them without finding 
something therein adapted to eytry age, condition, and duty of life. "We 
■ eommend it to families and schools.** —^Ibcmy Spectator. 

** He desires to instruct rather than to daasle } to infuse correct prlndplea 
Into the minds and the heart of the young, than cater to a depraved appetite 
for romantic excitement We cordially commend these volumes to all 
pareute and children." — Christian AUianee. 

CHRISTIANITY DEMONSTRATED m four distinct and inde- 
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Prophecies concerning the Messiah. 12mo. Price 75 cents. 

V The object of the writer has been to olasiiiy and condense the evidence, 
that the whole force of each particular kind might be seen at one view. He 
has also aimed to render the work practical, so as to have it a book to be read 
M well as studied. The Types and FMphecief furnish an important qpceiet 
tf evidence, and are rich in instruction upon the way of Salvation. 


THE FOUR GOSPELS. WITH NOTES. Chiefly Expbuutocy; 
Intended principally for Sabbath School Teacners and Bible 
Classes, and as an aid to Family Instrnction. B7 H. J. 
BiPLET. With a Map of Palestine. Eighth thousand. 12nio., 
half morocco. Price $1.26. 

*• The ondenigned, lutTing ezandncd FrofSeMOr nplej's Note* on thft Go«- 
pala, can recommend thorn with confldeneo to ell who need auch helpi in tbe 
•tndr of the Mcred Scriptniet. Thotc MMagei wliich all can nndentand an 
, kit 'wlthoat note or comment,' and the principal labor ii devoted to th« 
explanation of nxch parti as need to be explained and rescued from the per> 
Ttnlons of erroiiste, both the ignorant and the learned. The practical ene- 
geeHoni at the cloee of each chapter, are not the least ralnable nortion of tiM 
work. Moet cordiallj, for the nke of truth and righteonmen, do we wiah for 
tiiAM Notes a wide circulation.** 

Baboit Stow, B. H. Ncalb, R. TimKBUix» 

Daitibl Sharp, J. W. Pakkbi, N. CoLTxa, 
IfM. Haoob, IL W. Cvshmav, J. W. BoswoaTB. 

Explanatory. Designed for Teachers in Sabbath Schools and 
Bible Classes, and as an Aid to Family Instruction. By Prof. 
H.J. Biplev. With a Map of Paul's Travels. Third Thousand. 
Itakc, half morocco. Price 76 cents. 

* On examining the oontenti, we are fkTorably impreiMd, first, hj Am w«n- 
darftal perspicni^, timpUeitf* and oomprehenrfrenees of the author's Ctyle 1 
•eeondJy, hj the completeness and sfstematie arrangement of the work. In all 
Its parts ; thirdlj, bj the correct theology, solid Instruction, and consistent 
•zpianattons of difflenlt paseagea. The work cannot fidl to be received wfth 
IbTor." — CMaHim B^fUetor, BiMton. 

Concordance to the Holy Scriptures ; by Alezandeb Cbu- 
DEN, M.A. A New and Condensed Edition, with an Introduc- 
tion ; by Bev. David Kino, LL.D. Fifth Thousand. Price, 
in Boards, $1.26 ; Sheep, $1.60. 

%* This edition Is p|1nted ftom English platee, and is a ftiU and fldr eopy 
of all tliat is valuable In Cmden ae a Conooidanoe. The eondenaation of Iba 
quotations of Scripture, arranged under their most obvious heads, while it 
diminishes the bulk of the work, greatlj fkeUitates the finding of any required 

** Those who have been acquainted with the various works of this kind 
mow in use, well know that Cruden's Ck>noordance far excels all others. Tel 
we have in this edition the best made better. That is, the present is better 
adapted to the purposes of a Concordance, by the erasure of supcrflnoua 
- reftrences, the omission of unnecessary explananons, and the contraction of 
onotations, *e. t it is better as a manuai, and is better adapted by its price to 
ttie means of many who need and ought to possess sndi a work, ttuu fhe 
former larger and expensive edition." — Boston Recorder. 

** The new, condensed, and cheap work prepared from the voluminous and 
oostiy one of Cruden, opnortnnelv fills a chasm in our Biblical literature. 
The work has been examined crlticaUy, and pronounced complete and aocn- 
late.** - BaptiMt Record, Philadelphia. 

**This is the very woik of which we have long Mt the need, and we ave 
much pleased that its enteiprising publishers can now furnish the student «f 
fhe Bible with a work which he so much needs at so cheap a rate." 

Advent Herald^ BoaUm. 

** We eannot see but it Is, In aH points, as valuable a book of reference, dr 
■dUMws and Bible stndentP, ai the lai^r edition." — Chnattan R^ector, 


BfAIiCOM'S BIBLE DICTIONARY. A Dictionary of tha 
most important Karnes, Objects, and Terms, found in the 
Holy Scriptures; intended principaUy for Sanday School 
Teachers and Bible Classes. By U. MAiiCOM, D.D. Illus- 
trated by Engravings. 18mo. half morocco. One Hundieth 
thousand. Price 60 cts. 

** All who for a moment recur to the faet, that lam fbliot would not rail- 
eiently elucidate the subJecti which are brought to view in the Bible, will at 
Once see the difflcultj which the author must have felt, in eompreMlng all th* 
Infbrmation which he hasaoJndiciouBly condenied. If anj should mqutra, 
Whj hare we not more, the themes beinc so numerous ? let sueh aa one look 
•gain, and, perhaps, in his surprise, he wHl exolaim. How is it, that, in a book 
to oompleteV portable, we have so much ? to have made a larger book, as 
eould have been done with far less labor than this cost, might have placed 11 
beyond the reach of many, to whom It will now be usefoL AU who know th* 
aunsfons to ancient customs, and Jewish usage* in Eastern eounMes, wUh 
which the Bible abounds, will dlscorer something of the worth of this voinaM. 
It is vety neatty printed on handsome tTP* and line paper, and wiU, w 
doubt not, mee^ as It deserves, a ready sele.*^— Ohri$tian Watchman, 

Designed for the Use of Bible Classes and Sabbath Schools. 
Vol. L Matthew, — VoL IL John. By Eer. Wm. Haoob. 
Price 17 cents each. 

SABBATH SCHOOL CLASS BOOK. Comprising copious 
Exercises on the Sacred Scriptures. By E. Lincoln. Bevised 
and improTcd by an eminent Clergyman, and a Superinten- 
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** KiTing examined your Babbaih Behodl Clan Book, it gircs as plaeeare I* 
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•eholar in the study of hia lesson, and in suogesting topics of conversation te 
the teaeher. To this end we think your workis well adapted ; having avoldeA 
In a great degree, the evils of extreme redundance or conciseness. 

Wm. Haovb, H. Maloomv 

£. Thuebhbb, Baboit Stow. 

annexed, givinff in the language of the Sacred Volume, interest- 
inff portions of the History^ and a concise view of the Doo- 
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%* Where Bibles cannot be famished to each scholar, the Scriptnn Qni** 
tfons may be used with convenience, as the i^uwttn are printed. 

THE SABBATH SCHOOL HARMONY; containing apprqnri. 
ate Hymns and Music for Sabbath Schoob, Juvenue Simpng 
Schools, and Family Devotion. By N. D. Gould. rao« 
IZyi cents. 

SCRIPTURE NATURAL HISTORY. Containing a Descriptive 
Account of Quadrupeds, Birds, Fishes, Insects, Reptiles, Ser- 
pents. Plants, Trees. Minerals, Gems, and Precious Stones, 
mentioned in the Bible. By Wm. Cabpbnter, London ; with 
improvements, by Rev. G. D. Abbott. Illustrated by numer 
OQS Engravings. 12mo. cloth. Price $1.00. 




Vmi&r tk« can of the Amerieu Baptiat Wmkmuj Dam. 

Bt " Wrr.T.TAitf GAXmXXy A» Mi 

** We wekone with anfeigned pleasora thia new eootribatkMi to the 
■laiataie of Chriatian MiaaioiM. The aothor lelatea the history of the 
aaveiml aiiwiona io hia own words, praaentiof a eoneise and laminoas nar- 
imtira of each. The ▼olnoM is written in an easy and elegant style, and ia 
worthy of the high station and name of the anther.***- JX17IUC JMiymnM. 

" The need for sneh a work has long been felL It ia true that the matter 
here presented has been aeeeptable in other fbcms. But it needed to be 
eeadenaed, aifanged, and presented to the reader in an attiactive form. To 
all who wish to oomprebend tlie present position of onr stataona, by a 
knowledge of their pest history, it will be an invnluable aid. Indeed, a 
eopy shonM be in every family. Pastors and others who wish to urge mr- 
wanl the home work of foreign missions, would do well to circulate it aa 
widely aa possible in the charohea.** — PkaadOplM dbrsmels. 

** IPnt, Oammell is a writer of rare taste. The preparation of aoeh a 
work eonld not hare fallen into better bands. The reader is borne along 
fiom chapter to chapter with a namtiTe which, while it fully satisfies hS 
desire to know, commends itself as entirely truthful and trustworthy. The 
&cts recorded are as carefullv stated as the st^Ie of the work is chastened 
and pure. That it will greatly promote the missionary spirit, and serve to 
increase the missionary seal of onr churches, we have no qnestion. In 
readily we hare been struck with the difference between a knowledge of 
oor missions, gathered fkom macaxines and newspapers scattered through 
anccessive years, and that which is obtained from a compact and anthori- 
tatire narrative, bringing the whole before the observer at a single view. 
Let pastora, friends of missions, agents, and colporteurs, scatter it by thoo- 
sands. like bread east upon the waters, it will come back in prayers and 
blessings. No Baptist family should be without iL*> — JV*. T. MtKori&r. 

** This work is the result of great labor and research, and presents an 
ezeeedingly satisfketory view of the missionary operations of the Baptists 
in this country. It is well that it has fallen iq^p the hands of a man whose 
extensive knowledge and good judgment and candid Christian spirit qualify 
him ao eminently for such a service.** — JObmiff Jh'gwi, 

** Emanating from such a source, and under such auspices, the volume 
before os is a valuable contribution to American literature, as well as to 
the history of Obristian missions. Prof. Oammell baa executed his task 
with singular success. The style, always clear and coneot, is eracefiil and 
flowing, and in many a passage, descriptive of the toils and adventures of 
missionary life, ia full of eloquence and beauty.**— /Vooutoice JownaL 

** Prof. Ckmmell baa exhibited evidence, in this volume, of deep research 
and great fidelitv. He has not merely fhmished us with statistics, but has 
thrown around his subject almost the attraction of romance. It will be 
read with much interest, we think, bv laymen, and will be especially useful 
to elertrymen as an autnoritative reference book. We heartily commend 
this volume to our readers.** — Baptist Memorial. 

]^ TV work ia printed in handsome stiflej and sold at the very Unopriesi^ 

75 cents per eopy. Pastors, agents, and others who may engage m its dreur' 
iation, will be evppUed on very liberal terms, by the dozen or hundred 



A uMiUdhitke I4fet'Pr§e^t», amd early Due^la </ the OrMt IMtmur 

Bt E. L. Maoook. 

iam«. Pries, $1 S5. 

** It is adapted to the spirit of the times. It meets and answers the great 
inqoiry of the present day. It describes clearly the corruptions of pest 
tinaesi the imperfeetions of the present, and the changes that most be 
effected in the forms and spirit of religion, and through religion, upon the 
State, to secure to us better and brij^ter prospects for the future. The 
author is not afraid to expose and condemn the errors and corruptions, 
either of the church or state." — OrtsCton ITateAmon. 

** It is a Tery readable, and we think will prore a useful book, llie ar> 
gnment is clear and well sustained, and the style bold and direet. The 
tone and spirit of the entir^ work are that of an independent thinker, and 
of a man whose sympathies are with the many and not with the few, with 
no privileged class^ but with the human race. We commend this book to 
•II loTcra of true liberty and of a pure Christianity." — Providence JnarmtU 

" Mr. Maffoon thinks boldly, and speaks firankly, and with a variety and 
freshness of illustration that never fail to command attention." — JVeis 

** He considers Christianity in all its parts as essentially republican. He 
has maintained his position with great tact. It is a clear, striking, attrac- 
tive presentation or his views, and the reasons for them. It wfll excite 
attention, both from the subject itself, and from the manner in which it is 
handled." — PhOadefykia C&romeU. 

« This book is one which the masses will read with avidity, and its pe- 
\ we think, will fire up the zeal of some Christian eekolara.** —BqiUt 


(V, Ilhutnii»n§ eiyradwA OodltMss, dmsii fnm Os USssJk ff IFiMm. 
, Bt E. L. Maoook. 

12m«. Price, 90 eenCf. 

" He is quaint, sententious. He has indeed the three great qualities. 
< pith, point, and pathos ; * and always enforces high and noUe sentiments.*' 
— JVew Talk Recorder, 

** It is a popular manual of great practical utility. " ~- Gk. Obrvmels, PkOa. 

** The subjects are so selected as to embrace nearly all the practical 
duties of lif«. The work, in consequence of this peculiar ehaiacter, will 
be found extensively use Ail. "— IZodksster DetMcrat, 

" The work abounds with original and pithv matter, well adapted to •»- 
gage the attention and to reform the life. We hope these diseoanea will 
be extensively read."— ATonwi^ Star, Dover. 

<* It is an excellent book for young people, and especially for youogntDp 
loiidst the temputioos of bnsineai siia pleasure." — AOtmi/ JSqwwas. 



Bt Fbakois Watlakd, B. D. 

AeMMf EHUn. ISkM. PHe$, fl 00. 

I cootaia w mach carefully arranfed thought at tbeae by 
«... ,..,..1.^. Jlie thorough logicfan is apparent throughout the TolaiiM| 
and then ii a claMie parity io the diction unaurpaned by any writer, ana 
equalled by rery few." — M» Fork CommercUt JUMtiiBtr, 

** They are the careful production of a matured and powerfhl inteUeet, 
and were addressed to a thinking and welMnformed audience, and are 
eapeeially adapted for the educated and thoughtfiil man."— Ckr, ABimu. 

** No Ainkiuff man can open to an^r portion of it without findinc hia 
attention strongly arreeted, and fooling inclined to yield his aasent to thoea 
self-OTincing statementi which appear <m eyerr page. As a writer. Dr. 
Waylaod is distinguished by simplicity, strength, and eomprehensiyeness. 
Be addreeses biaaself directly to the intellect more than to the imagination j 
to the conscience eoore than to the passions. Yet, through the intelleet 
aad the conscience, be often reaches the depths of our emotiye nature, and 
roaees it by words of power. We commend these sermons to all studenta 
of moral and religious truth, to all lovers of sound thought conveyed in 
elegant diction." — WaUkmm ^ B^leeUfr. 

** The discourses are charecterized by all that richness of thought and 
•legance of language for which their talented author is celebrated. Tie 
wtele yolnme is well worthy of the pen of the distinguished scholar and 
diyine fhm whom it emanates." — Dr. Bairns ChriatUm CMon. 


Or CbaqiesfCien and Ddwtrf qf Semunu, 
. Bt HniiBT J. Birur, Profea a or in Newton Tbedlogleal Inatitntioik 
B whtit n g Jfar^s iSnts on Extmporaneomt Pnaehmf. 
ISnM. Prieet ?& «•"<'• 

** An admirably prepared work, clear and suceinet in its positlottB and 
recommendations^ soundly based on good authority, and well supported faj 
a yariety of reading and illustrations. It is well adapted for a healthy dis- 
oipline of the foculty, and there are few preachers who micht not with 
prefit revise their practice by its pages. It is worthy, too, of neing a com- 
panion t* Whately, in the general study of Bhetorw.**— A*. T. Utarmjf 

«* Prof. BIpley fMssesses the highest ^nalifieationa for a work of this kind. 
Bit position has giyeo him great experience in the peculiar wants of theo- 
logical itndents." -» frvm&tiM JounuL 

" This work belongs aaeog the sufastantiale of onr literatnw. It is nan- 
ifostly the fniit of mature thoqght and large obserratioD } it is pervaded by 
n mtmf lone, and abounds in judieioua counsels ; it is compactly writtnn, 
and admirably arranged, both for study and reference. It will Deeorae a 
Inxtrbook for theological students ; it deserves to be read by all nuniston 
who can avail thesBi'velves of it, and especially by all young minisleia.**— 
Jf. T. Record. 


Bt Abhold Outot, Prof. Pbyi. Geo. and Hiit| Neachatel. 

TVoMlatotf >VOTn tkt JVeiidk Ay PBor. G. C. Fbltoit. WA lUuttraiioiu, 

lam. Price, $195. 

** The work is one of high merit, eihibitii^ a wide range of knowledge, 
great research, and a philosophical spirit of inTeati|ation. Its perusal will 
well repay the most learned in such subjects, and nve new views to all of 
man's relation to the globe he inhabits." — SiUimm^s Journal 

*< To the reader we shall owe no apology, if we have said enoogh to 
excite his curiosity, and to persuade him to look to the book itself for ftir« 
ther instruction." — JVortA jtmertean Revieu), 

** The grand idea of the work is happily expressed by the author, where 
he calls it the gtographiBol mareh ^ history, * * * The man of science 
will hail it as a beautiful generalization from the facts of observation. The 
Christian, who trusts in a merciful Providence, will draw courage from it, 
and hope yet mwe earnestly for the redemption of Uie most degraded por- 
tions of mankind. Faith, scieneef learning, poetry, taste, in a word, 
genius, have liberally contributed to the prodnction of the work under 
review. Sometimes we feel as if we were studying a treatise on the exaet 
sciences ; at others, it strikes the ear like an epic poem. Now it reads like 
history, and now it sounds like prophecy. It will find readers in whatever 
language it may be published j and in the elegant English dress wliich it 
has received firom the accomplished pen of the translator, it will not fhil to 
interest, instruct, and inspire." — Ckrigtitai Examiner, 

" These lectures form one of the most valuable oontribations to geognu 
phical science that has ever been published in this country. They invest 
the study of geographv with an interest which will, we doubt not, surprise 
and delight many. They will open an entire new world to most readen, 
and will be found an invaluable aid to the teacher and student oi geog- 
raphy." — Evening Traoeller, 

** We venture to pronounce this one of the moot interesting and instni»> 
tive books which have come from the American press for many a month. 
The science of which it treats, b comparatively of recent origin : but it is of 
great importance, not only on account of its connections with other branehee 
of knowledge, but for its bearing upon many of the interests of society. 
It abounds with the richest interest and instruction to every iotelHgent 
reader, and is especially fitted to awaken enthusiasm and delignt in all who 
are devoted to the study, either of natoral science or the history of man- 
kind." — Providenee JoumaU 

" Geography is here presented under a new and attractive phase: it is no 
longer a drv desciption of the features of the earth's surface. The influ- 
ence of soil, scenery, and climate upon character, has not yet received tho 
consideration doe to it from historians and philosophers. In the volume 
before us, the profound investigations of Humboldt, Bitter, and others, in 
Physical Geography, are presented in a popular form, and with the clear- 
ness and vivaci^ so characteristic of French treatises on science. The 
work should be introduced into oor higher sehooli."— 7^ /ndepsndsnl, 

** Geography is here made to assume a dignity not heretofore attached to 
it. The knowledge oonamnnieated in these leetwei is owiow, iiiiezpeetad» 
nbsoibing." ^ CkHstian Mrrvr^ PtrHand. 

0QtEiti9andbu»ai/vasf OniameiiUdCioven. iViee 81A^ cento lodl. 

DAILY MANNA for Chriatian Pilgrims. By Key. B. Stow, D.D 

H. A. Gbavks. 

THE YOUNG COMMUNICANT. An Aid to the Right Undes 
standing and Spiritual Improrement of the Lord's Sapper. 


THE BIBLE AND THE CLOSET. Or, how we may lead the 
Scriptures with the most spiritual profit And Secret Prayer 
gnccessfdlly managed. Edited by Key. J. 0. Choules. 

THE MARRIAGE RING, or how to make Home Happy. From 
the writings of J. A. James. 

LYRIC GEMS. A Collection of Original and Select Sacred 
Poetry. Edited by Bev. S. F. Smith. 

THE CASKET OF JEWELS, for Young Christians. By James, 
Edwards, and Harris. 

THE CYPRESS WREATH. A Book of Consolation for those 
who Mourn. Edited by Rev. B. W. Griswold. 

THE MOURNER'S CHAPLET. An Offering of Sympathy for 
Bereaved Friends. Edited by John Eeese. 

THE FAMILY CIRCLE. Its Aflbctions and Pleasures. Edited 
by the Rev. H. A. Graves. 

THE FAMILY ALTAR. Or the Duty, Benefits, and Mode of 
conducting Family Worship. i 

Alt of Ae above, m neat hoxea, and forming a heauHfld " Jfima- 
twre Library" in 12 V^, Prtce $3.76. | 

THE SILENT COMFORTER. A Companion for the Sick Room. 
^y Mrs. Louisa Patson Hopkins. 

eOLDEN GEMS; for the Christian. Selected from the writings 
of Rev. John Flavel, with a Memoir of the Author, by Bev. 
Joseph Banyard. 

THE WEDDING GIFT : Or, the Duties and Pleasures of Do- 
mestic Life. * 
THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S GUIDE to the Doctrines and 

Duties of a Religious Life. 


































"Jl f# • 



■ -.f...V